


The Art of Speaking Ship

by megsblackfire



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Young Deadlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4568505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megsblackfire/pseuds/megsblackfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since he set foot on the Death's Head, Deadlock's had a perpetual headache, like something was itching at the back of his mind. Lockdown knows a means to alleviate the pain, but trying to get the kid to work with him on the ship is a struggle in and of itself. It will take a lot of convincing and he might just have to drag the kid in after him, but he knows that the soft humming that Deadlock complains about is more than just noise. At least, it's more than just mere background noise of a space-faring ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set in IDW-ish universe, but will likely branch out and takes bits and pieces from other 'verses when necessary. 
> 
> Author does not own the rights to The Transformers licence. Everything is written for fun.
> 
> Rating may change during the course of the story.   
> Title may be subject to change.

Chapter 1

Lockdown stepped off the platform and turned to face the sulking teenager behind him. “Stay with the ship,” he ordered. “Make sure that they don’t try to put that cheap slag into the fuel tank again. Took me months to work everything out of the fuel lines so that it could actually work properly.”

The white, black, and yellow teenager pouted. He would have looked intimidating if he wasn’t all limbs and very little protective armor. Or if he didn’t look like he needed to have his face cleaned up.

“Why can’t I go with you?” he whined.

“Can you negotiate?” Lockdown smirked.

“Yes!”

“In Primal Vernacular?”

Audials fell and the youngling tucked his head into his chest. “No.” Then the defiance flared up. “Neither can you!”

“Obviously I can,” Lockdown smirked. “Just stay with the ship, okay, Deadlock? We can explore the station when I get back.”

“That’s not fair! You promised to show me your trade!”

“And I will,” Lockdown shook his head. “First lesson is ‘Listen to Your Experienced Partner’. Now stay put.”

Deadlock let out another whine, but didn’t follow him. That was a step in the right direction. He still had a bit of time to meet with his contact about the price for his bounty; he always arranged them around the assumption that he was going to have to chase the kid back to the ship for almost an hour before he got the point.

The kid was smart. Incredibly smart. He needed constant mental stimulation and Lockdown was having a hard time keeping him from tearing equipment apart to try to put it back together. He wasn’t very good at the “put it back together properly” part yet, but he’d get there eventually. He had no doubt that if he could just convince him to follow him into the belly of the ship when they were docked, he could actually teach him something useful.

As it stood, the insides of the ship terrified Deadlock. Not that Lockdown could blame him. It was hot and close in amongst the wires. Condensation of water and other important fluids were everywhere. It was intimidating, especially with the low lighting. It probably reminded him of the Dead End.

The less he knew about what happened to the kid in that terrible place the better. It was bad enough that it existed in the first place; he didn’t want to know what someone as young as Deadlock did in order to survive. He wasn’t going to pry into anything like that.

Shouldering his pack, Lockdown weaved his way through the crowd. A few mechs glanced at him, but most got out of his way. He was a familiar face at this station and everyone learned to stay out of his way. If Lockdown was around, he was dropping off a bounty for someone that no one wanted to mess with. It was better to take cover and wait for the chaos to end.

He liked it that way.

* * *

 

Deadlock watched Lockdown vanish into the station proper. He hated getting left behind. He hated being alone, especially around the ship. It made him feel funny, like there was something moving around the back of his mind. It hurt and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Lockdown had promised to teach him how to be a bounty hunter, but so far he had just been left in charge of communication links for temporary partners. There was once when Lockdown let him tag along, but it was only to be bait to get some creep to come out of hiding. He didn’t even have time to stab the mech in the optic before Lockdown was on him and had him in stasis cuffs.

He kept using the excuse that Deadlock was too young. If Lockdown knew how many mechs he’d killed already, he wouldn’t hesitate. He knew that. Lockdown would take him along with him without a second thought. He could handle himself.

Grumbling, he headed back up the platform to where the airlock was sitting open. Dock workers were dropping off supplies inside and looked past him as he walked along the side of the ship. He didn’t want to go inside; he hated being inside that ship. It was just…too much.

He paused as he watched dock workers haul fuel into the hull. He didn’t know what quality of fuel it was, but he had to make sure that it was the “good stuff”. That was what Lockdown told him to do and he was going to do it. Fluffing his armor up to make himself look bigger, he headed for the three mechs hauling fuel barrels.

“What grade is that?” he asked. “Lockdown doesn’t want cheap slag.”

The workers paused and looked at him. They were all wearing visors and masks, but he could feel their disgust through the glass and armor. One of them folded their mask back and lifted his visor.

“The frack do you want, dirt-kicker?” he growled.

“I’m making sure that the fuel grade you’re delivering is worth Lockdown’s credits,” Deadlock replied as he straightened his back. “Like I said, he doesn’t want cheap slag.”

The workers glanced at each other before the other workers set down their cargo and stepped up beside the original worker. Deadlock looked between them and felt a tremor of fear wiggle through his fueltank. This had been a bad idea; he couldn’t handle them if they attacked. He was in so much trouble. He had to keep himself strong; get to the point and leave.

“And who’re you, dirt-kicker?” one worker asked as he rubbed at his nose. “Lockdown’s little whore?”

“Didn’t realize Lockdown liked ‘em tiny,” another worker snickered.

“I’m his apprentice,” Deadlock snapped. “Show some respect.”

“Mouthy too,” the first worker smirked. “Think he’d mind if we took him for a test ride?”

Deadlock’s spark constricted and his armor tightened to his chassis. No. No he had to get out of here. This was bad. This was so very, very bad.

“I don’t think so,” Deadlock growled as he took a step backwards.

He felt a solid body behind him and tensed. He tried to bolt, but hands wrapped tightly around his arms. A mech with bad breath growled into his audio and pulled him close.

“I like the way you think, Diesel,” the mech growled. “Why don’t we have some fun in the hull and leave him there. Lockdown won’t even know he’s missing.”

“He does replace them rather quickly,” Diesel cackled. “You ready to have some fun, cutie?”

Deadlock struggled to get free as the mechs, but they hauled him along without any trouble. The dark interior of the hull loomed ahead and he felt tears building behind his optics. No. No. No, please!

A laser tore through the shoulder of one of the workers. They all fell back with shouts of disbelief and surprise. Deadlock struggled to get free, driving his knee into the stomach of the mech holding him. They let out a grunt of pain and he ran. Lockdown caught him by the arm and pulled him behind him as he leveled a massive rifle at the dockworkers.

“Is there a reason you’re mech-handling my apprentice?” Lockdown growled.

Something sounded wrong with his voice. It was wavering a little, like holding the gun was harder than it should have been. Judging by the looks of fear on the workers’ faces, they didn’t hear it. They were backing away slowly, hands where he could see them.

“We weren’t planning anything,” a dockworker lied. “Just showing the little mech where everything was going.”

Lockdown didn’t look convinced. “I suggest you stick to hauling cargo; you’d fail in any other field of work,” he growled.

The workers nodded and quickly picked their discarded canisters. They shuffled into the ship, glancing miserably over their shoulders as they vanished into the gloom.

Lockdown waited until they were out of sight before he rested a hand on Deadlock’s shoulder. “You okay, kid?” he asked.

Deadlock tried to nod, but he wasn’t okay. He couldn’t cry; he wasn’t a sparkling. But he wanted to; he wanted to cry and he wanted to be held and comforted.

“Come on,” Lockdown set a hand against his back. “Inside so I can look for injuries without those afts coming back.”

Deadlock let himself be shepherded into the ship. He worked on keeping himself together, but as soon as they stepped into the dark interior, the tears started falling down his face.

“It’s okay,” Lockdown soothed as he knelt down. “You’re safe now.”

“They were…they were going to…,” Deadlock hiccupped.

He moved forward and hugged Lockdown’s shoulders, burying his face in his neck. Lockdown’s arms wrapped protectively around him.

“I know,” he soothed. “I know.”

His hand moved soothingly up and down Deadlock’s back. It helped. It helped a lot. He managed to get his emotions under control, but Lockdown didn’t comment on the amount of time it took. Stepping back, he rubbed at his face.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

“Don’t be,” Lockdown shrugged as he stood up. “Keep the gun on you; anyone comes through the door of your room that isn’t me, blast ‘em.”

Deadlock smiled dumbly as Lockdown handed the gun over. It was heavy and awkward, but if he sat on his berth and pointed it at the door, he’d be just fine. Lockdown ran his hand playfully over Deadlock’s helm.

“Don’t blast your toes off,” he added. “Stay on board, okay? Don’t wander off. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Deadlock nodded. “Okay. Um…good luck?”

Lockdown smirked and poked Deadlock’s nose. “I don’t need luck,” he teased. “They do.”

Deadlock smiled and started down the hallway towards his room. He glanced over his shoulder, but Lockdown had already left. The ship seemed quieter as he headed for his room. He was used to hearing the soft noises, the whirling of engines and the soft whoosh of pressurizing air through the vents.

It seemed muted and it was not as comforting as he thought it would be. It was like a friend was lying down and being quiet when they were usually full of life. It was unsettling.

Shivering, he pushed the door to his room open and locked it behind him. He climbed onto the berth and settled the gun against his hip, pointing the barrel at the door. He could sit here for a long time. Lockdown might take all day, but he could definitely handle himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author does not own The Transformers licence. Everything is written for fun.

Chapter 2

Lockdown knew something was wrong the moment he walked onto the ship. She was too quiet. There was usually a soft rumble within the walls, even when the engines were powered down. It was a comfort, a promise of life even in the depth of space. Now it was muted and the occasional rumble of a tired spark.

Reaching out, he touched the wall with his good hand. His claws tapped out a rapid question, rousing Death’s Head from her slumber.

“What happened?” he tapped out each glyph carefully, making sure that there was no room for miscommunication.

Death’s Head’s reply was hard to decipher. “Holoform,” she sighed. “You. Kid…danger. Strain.”

“Rest,” he urged. “I’ll handle Deadlock.” He had to spell the name out carefully on the wall.

“Gun. Big gun,” she warned.

“Thank you,” he patted the wall and started down the hallway.

Death’s Head’s lights dimmed as she settled down into stasis. She’d probably be that way for a while. He’d have to think up a reasonable excuse to keep the kid from panicking and bolting for the closest exit. That could wait though. He had to make sure the kid was okay first.

Arriving at Deadlock’s door, he knocked just loud enough to snap someone out of recharge. “Hey, kid, it’s me,” he called. “I’m going to open the door, so don’t shoot me.”

“Okay,” Deadlock called.

Lockdown typed in the override code and sidestepped the door as it opened. A pillow bounced off the wall behind him and Deadlock laughed from inside the room.

“I learn fast,” Lockdown chuckled as he stepped into the room and dodged the other pillow. “Good to see you aren’t still upset. Now, you want to explain what happened?”

Deadlock hung his head. “I…I confronted the dockworkers and told them what you told me and…and they grabbed me and…and they were going to…to do horrible things to me.” Lockdown heard the youngling’s engines stutter and Deadlock rubbed at his face. “If you hadn’t shown up….”

Lockdown sat down beside Deadlock on the berth and hugged him close. “You’re safe,” he soothed as Deadlock burrowed his way into his chest and sat there shivering. “I got you.”

Deadlock let out a soft noise and Lockdown stroked his hand down the youngling’s back. He didn’t say anything as he let the youngling have his breakdown. He only had his assumptions to go on, but he knew that Deadlock’s life in the Dead End was bad.

When he found the kid, he had been on the verge of burnout. Discarded circuit-speeder containers were scattered around him; it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the kid was a few seconds from overdosing. He had only a few seconds to decide what to do and he took the tougher route; he’d scooped the youngling up and headed for the closest medical clinic. The medic hated him; they had a history; but he put it aside to save the kid.

“You feeling better?” he asked.

“A little,” Deadlock sniffled. “Sorry.”

“You didn’t break down on me in the middle of a hunt,” he chuckled. “You’re fine here.”

“Shouldn’t be a baby,” he grumbled as he pulled away.

Lockdown shrugged a shoulder as Deadlock cleaned his face up. “We all have a breaking point. At least you know now that you shouldn’t be trying to intimidate aftheaded dockworkers.”

Deadlock nodded miserably. “Bunch of filthy frackers all deserve to die,” he growled.

Lockdown smirked. He liked the way the kid thought, but it was hardly appropriate. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to pay out their employer with the shanix I got from the haul,” he teased.

Deadlock perked up and scooted closer. “What’d you make?” he grinned.

Lockdown shrugged a shoulder. “Enough to buy some souvenirs, if you’re up to it,” he replied. “You still want to explore the station?”

Deadlock shifted nervously. His lips twitched and he chewed on the lower one. His yellow optics flickered. Finally, he nodded.

“Yah, I still want to,” he murmured.

“Let me go put on a presentable hand and we’ll head out,” Lockdown stood up.

“Okay,” Deadlock nodded. “And Lockdown…thank you. Again.”

“Don’t mention it,” Lockdown chuckled. “No, really. If it gets out that I comforted a youngling like a caring coder, my reputation will be ruined.”

Deadlock giggled at the joke. Smiling, Lockdown left to replace his hook with a hand.

* * *

 

Deadlock held onto Lockdown’s arm tightly.  He hated feeling like a youngling; he hated being weak and defenseless; but Lockdown was safe. He didn’t have to worry about anything so long as he was with Lockdown. Everyone gave them a wide berth, eyeing them mistrustfully, but it didn’t matter.

Lockdown let him lead the way, pointing towards shops to look through. Most of the clerks did not like Lockdown and followed them around. It was tempting to steal something just to spite them, but Lockdown wouldn’t allow it.

“Gotta keep them nice,” he warned as he put a figurine back on the shelf. “They don’t like me and they have good reason not to. Let’s not turn them into a raging mob that’s out for our heads, yes?”

It was difficult to follow that request. His fingers itched to filch something, to pocket it and watch a store clerk go crazy trying to find it. He wanted to listen to Lockdown, though; he owed him a lot and it would be stupid to spit on his good-fortune.

Lockdown kept him from buying anything crazy, but he did indulge him with lots of figurines, datapads, and games to keep himself busy while Lockdown was occupied. It was more things than he had ever had in his whole life.

“Thank you,” he murmured as they headed for the “food court”; whatever that was.

“Gotta keep you busy somehow,” Lockdown chuckled. “Last thing I need is to find that you’ve taken to drawing all over the walls.”

Deadlock grinned sheepishly up at his caretaker. He wanted to be like Lockdown. He was confident and so sure of himself that it was intimidating. Throw in the dark armor and the spikes and those dark red optics and he was a walking nightmare for anyone without a sturdy spark. He was terrifying and merciless and completely without remorse, but he chose to take pity on a youngling about to die and give them another chance far away from Cybertron and its idiotic chaste system. He owed Lockdown everything and he was going to learn, even if it scared him.

Lockdown found them a booth to sit down at. “I’ll get us some fuel,” he smirked. “Watch the bag and break any fingers that try to take anything.”

Deadlock grinned and nodded. He could do that. Breaking fingers was easy; acting tough in front of giant dockworkers, not so much.

Lockdown ruffled the top of Deadlock’s helm before he turned and left. Deadlock wiggled the three bags onto his lap and looped the handles over his wrists. He’d like to see anyone try to steal from him. They wouldn’t get past him. Not one inch.

Lockdown returned fairly quickly with two cubes of energon and a weird looking tray with multicoloured shapes in it. He sat down opposite him in the booth and pushed a cube of light blue energon towards him.

“Drink that first,” he chuckled. “Don’t want you trying anything sweet on an empty fueltank. I do not clean up purge.”

“Sweet?” Deadlock asked in confusion as he gave the multicoloured shapes a look. “Those are sweet?”

“Very,” Lockdown slumped against the back of the booth and braced his arm across the top. “Rot the teeth right out of your helm.” Deadlock stared at him in shock and Lockdown almost snorted into his dark red energon. “It’s an expression kid,” he laughed. “Just drink your ‘gon and you’ll see soon enough.”

Deadlock wanted to down his fuel to see what Lockdown was talking about, but one taste killed that thought immediately. It was bitter. It was incredibly bitter and he had to take it one sip at a time. Lockdown was laughing at him between sips of his own energon, his dark optics blazing with amusement.

“It’s bitter,” he whined.

“It’s supposed to be,” Lockdown chuckled. “It’s good for you.”

“Are you drinking it?” Deadlock asked accusingly.

“I don’t need to anymore,” he smirked as he sipped his energon.

Deadlock grumbled as he sipped the bitter energon. Lockdown tensed up and glanced out towards the rest of the food court. His armor shifted, moving outward to make himself more intimidating than he already was. Deadlock kept his optics on his energon, sipping it slowly.

“Well, I didn’t know you took up sparkling-sitting in your spare time, Lockdown,” an accented voice commented. “He yours?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Lockdown growled.

Deadlock snuck a look at the newcomer and tried to hide his frown. The mech was lanky and not very big; he might have reached Lockdown’s chest. His fingers were long and sharp and did not look like they were good for doing anything. His head was encased in a glass dome that was tinted enough that he couldn’t make out the mech’s optics.

The lanky mech snorted. “He’s cute,” he chuckled. “You only taking kids onboard now or do you have room for paying tenants?”

Lockdown turned his head and Deadlock shivered. He wasn’t sure if that was a sinister “I’m going to kill you now” smile on Lockdown’s face or that weird one that adults got when they saw someone that made them want to frag really hard. Both options were uncomfortable and he hoped that it was the former.

“That depends on what you’re willing to pay,” Lockdown growled. “Pickings are slim right now, so I’ll have to charge extra.”

“If I was worried about a price tag, I would have found lodgings on a respectable ship,” the mech smirked. “Not that your ship isn’t a lovely ship, there’s just a certain….stigma attached to it.”

“Nice save,” Lockdown growled as he stood up. “Fine, Slick, I’ll give you a room. We’ll discuss rent once your junks onboard.”

“How nice of you,” Slick smirked as he slipped past Lockdown to sit opposite Deadlock in the booth. “I’d be worried if I didn’t…trust…you?”

Slick cocked his head to the side as Lockdown sat down beside Deadlock. Deadlock paused mid-gulp to glance at his mentor. His armor was fluffed up and he was leaning against the back of the booth with one arm draped across the top so that his good hand was dangling over Deadlock’s left shoulder.

Slick was staring at Lockdown with his mouth open. Deadlock couldn’t decide if he looked confused, insulted, or bewildered. It was funny, but he did his best not to laugh, just in case the mech reached across the table to claw his face off.

Slick’s optics strayed towards the treats and he smirked. “Well, these look delicious,” Slick purred as he reached for a star-shaped out.

“Those are the kid’s,” Lockdown growled dangerously low.

Deadlock glanced up at Lockdown and shrank slowly against the booth. Lockdown looked ready to kill. He could feel the fury wafting off of him and his claws were curling into dangerous talons. Slick pushed the tray towards Deadlock and smiled sweetly.

“My apologies, little one,” he soothed with a saccharine smile. “I’ll leave you two to your meal. I have some things left to collect still.”

Lockdown settled back against the booth and snorted. Slick slipped out of the booth and walked away from them. Lockdown watched him go until he was out of sight. Letting out a long groan, Lockdown slumped against the booth and grinned down at Deadlock.

“Didn’t scare you, did I?” he asked.

“Uh?” Deadlock blinked. “I think I might have whiplash.”

Lockdown laughed and dropped a hand onto Deadlock’s helm. “Sorry about that,” he apologized as he ruffled the top of Deadlock’s helm. “Oil Slick has a bad habit of overstepping boundaries. Have to let him know what the hierarchy is before he does anything stupid and gets himself thrown out an airlock.”

Deadlock rolled his optics. Lockdown was always joking about the ship throwing people out the airlocks. It was impossible to do; the locks were under three different passcodes and took forever to open. There was no point in throwing anyone out of them.

“So…you know him?” Deadlock asked.

“Very well,” he smiled. “Enough to know that he’d order you around without any hesitation unless I made it clear that you have a rank above him.”

“It matters that much?”

“Unless you want to test out his newest concoctions to see what terrible side-affects it has, yes,” Lockdown smirked. “Now eat your candy. You’ve been a good little mech and deserve your treat.”

Deadlock narrowed his optics. “Seriously?” he demanded. “I’m not a sparkling.”

Lockdown smirked and picked a circular treat up. “Whatever you say, kiddo,” he teased.

Deadlock rolled his optics before he popped a star-shaped treat into his mouth. He blinked and chewed and immediately melted into a puddle of happy armor. It tasted absolutely amazing and he wanted all of it!

He didn’t care about his fueltank hurting later. He wanted all the sweets in his mouth right now! Consequences be damned!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author does not own The Transformers licence. Everything is written for fun.

Chapter 3

Lockdown settled down into his chair and stretched his arms over his head. Deadlock was out cold in his room after running laps around the training room. He might have bought him one too many sweets, but he thought the kid deserved to taste something good.

Death’s Head hummed softly around him. He didn’t bother trying to understand what she was saying; he had to focus too much for that when she was this quiet. She was sleep-talking and the most he might have gleaned from the whole affair was that rocks tasted really bad or something else half-baked.

Stretching more, he glanced over his shoulder. “Hey, Slick; all settled in?”

Oil Slick dropped down into the chair beside him. “Of course,” he dusted his thighs off. “The ship is oddly quiet.”

“She spent a lot of energy,” Lockdown shrugged a shoulder. “Kid got himself in trouble and she saved his aft.”

“Really?” Oil Slick tilted his head to the side. “She must like the kid a great deal to waste so much energy saving him.”

Lockdown lifted an optic ridge and snorted. “He’s part of the crew; she’d save your aft too if you needed it,” he pointed out.

“Mmm,” Oil Slick shrugged. “Have bounties been that poor? It’s not like you to take tenants. Even one as handsome as me.”

“They’ve been few and far between,” he grimaced. “I just dropped off one, but I don’t trust them to pay me twice in a row.” He scratched his jaw with his good hand and sighed. “I might have to swing by Cybertron and see if that gladiator has anything new.”

“Megatronus?” Oil Slick sat up straight in his seat. “He’s still alive?”

Lockdown nodded. “Alive and getting a rebellion together.”

“Rebellion?” Oil Slick blinked.

“Most of his ideas just seem like preaching of every other prophet,” he moved his fingers in quotations, “but a lot of the lower castes are getting behind him.”

Oil Slick lowered his head and blinked at his feet. Lockdown shifted in his seat and adjusted their course. He wasn’t too worried about hitting anything, but he didn’t like going through the asteroid belt around the local star. It was a little too clustered and he didn’t want to use more energon than he needed to by firing the engines to avoid collisions.

“Do you think it’ll come to a war?” Oil Slick asked softly.

Lockdown shrugged. “Hard to say,” he admitted. “The propaganda seems to push for force if words fail, but I think he’s going for an intellectual take-over first.”

“Will you join?”

“Not if I can avoid it,” Lockdown grimaced. “I’m not risking my hide for idiots.”

“Ah,” Oil Slick purred. “Is that why you brought the kid along? Want to keep him safe, Lockdown?”

Lockdown clenched his dents together. Death’s Head fell silent. She was stirring and he reached out to gently stroke over the screen in front of him.

“Kids shouldn’t have to fight wars for cowards,” he growled.

“How altruistic of you,” Oil Slick smirked. “Going soft in your old age, Lockdown?”

Lockdown would have knocked Oil Slick off of his chair if glyphs hadn’t started flashing across the screen in front of him. His optics snapped to the screen and he managed to catch sight of ‘edlock’ before Death’s Head let out a long sigh of exhaustion.

“What’s wrong?” he soothed as he ran his fingers over the screen.

“Nightmare,” she sighed, her humming voice shifting quietly through the bridge. “Wandering. Third hall.”

Lockdown stood up. “Keep an optic on the comms for me,” he ordered.

“Expecting a call?” Oil Slick asked.

“Just being safe,” he shrugged. “If it’s anything important, let me know.”

He left Oil Slick in the bridge as Death’s Head settled down. He ran his fingers over the wall as he walked, writing nonsense. It was to help her sleep; he figured out that it worked better to write on her walls than trying to talk softly. It took a lot less attention to process.

Deadlock was sitting on the floor with his face pressed into his knees in the third hallway. He was shaking and whimpering, rocking a little where he had sat down. Lockdown sat down beside him and waited for Deadlock to notice him.

Teary yellow optics looked up at him. Deadlock rubbed at his optics and sniffled.

“You weren’t in your room,” he whimpered. “I…I couldn’t,” he sniffled and rubbed harder at his optics.

“It’s okay,” he soothed as he shifted his left arm. “Come here.”

Deadlock climbed onto his lap and clung to his chest. Lockdown ran his hand over Deadlock’s back, engine rumbling softly to help sooth him. He was shaking and his armor was clattering together at a pitiful tempo.

“It’s okay,” he soothed as he continued rubbing Deadlock’s back. “You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Deadlock let out a whimper and pressed his head into Lockdown’s shoulder. Death’s Head let out a soft murmur and he heard the approximation of Deadlock’s name rumble through the hallway. Deadlock shifted and whimpered.

“Lockdown, my head hurts,” he whined.

“Sorry, kiddo,” he chuckled as he gave Deadlock a small squeeze. “Do you want to go back to your room?”

“No,” Deadlock shifted. “Can I stay with you?”

Lockdown did his best not to shiver. He knew that Deadlock was young; it was obvious from his frame shape; but it always worried him just how young Deadlock may have been. Shaking and shivering against his chest, Deadlock seemed like he might have onlined only a few vorns ago. It was troubling; how could they have let a sparkling slip through the cracks and end up addicted to circuit speeders in the Dead End?

“Want to stay with me?” he asked softly.

“Please?” Deadlock’s voice sounded very small.

Lockdown looped his good arm under Deadlock’s chassis and supported him as he stood up. Deadlock looped his arms around his neck and shifted closer to loop his legs around his chest.

“Watch the spikes,” he teased as Deadlock shifts closer and tucked his face into his chest.

“M’kay,” Deadlock murmured.

Holding him securely, Lockdown headed back towards the bridge. If Oil Slick said anything, he was jabbing him in the leg with something sharp.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author does not own The Transformers. Everything is written for fun.

Chapter 4

Lockdown opened up the panel leading into the deeper section of the ship. He glanced over his shoulder at Deadlock. Deadlock shifted away, eyeing the dark, red-lit interior mistrustfully.

“You sure you don’t want to tag along?” Lockdown asked.

He always asked. Deadlock always said no. He didn’t like the idea of being in those narrow passages. He didn’t like the humidity or the low lights or the oppressing heat. It was nightmare inducing and he just couldn’t go in.

Deadlock shook his head. “I’m good,” he murmured.

“It’ll help with the headaches,” Lockdown added as he grabbed his toolkit.

“I can handle it,” Deadlock lifted his chin.

“Fine,” Lockdown shrugged a shoulder. “Just keep yourself out of trouble. No training room time without me there. And don’t go in Oil Slick’s lab.”

“Why?” Deadlock asked without thinking.

“Because I don’t know what idiot experiment he’s doing now and I don’t feel like amputating an arm or something,” Lockdown narrowed his optics. “I’m serious, kid. Just give his section a wide berth.”

Deadlock shivered and nodded. “Okay,” he whispered.

“I’ll be a few hours,” Lockdown continued. “Stay out of trouble.”

Deadlock nodded and watched Lockdown side-shuffle into the inner-workings of the ship. Swallowing, he backed away from the gaping hole in the wall. He waited a few moments and then bolted.

He ran down several hallways and stopped outside the rec room. He was shaking and he didn’t even bother trying to stop his armor from clattering together. He hated it when Lockdown did maintenance on the ship. He hated the thought of passageways around the ship that he didn’t see. He didn’t like the thought of someone being inside them, waiting for the moment to strike.

Whimpering, he pushed the door open and headed for the couch. It was worn and beaten up, but it was still soft and comfortable. He curled up against the arm, propping his head against it and holding his knees against his chest.

It wasn’t quiet in the rec room; it wasn’t quiet anywhere on the ship. It was always humming or rumbling, like someone had slowed down a recording of a voice. It always itched at the back of his mind, like words he couldn’t quite make out or remember, but it was strangely comforting right now.

He offlined his optics and exhaled. The humming softened and something started crooning. He shifted and felt his shutters growing heavy. He yawned and nuzzled his face into the arm of the couch, listening to the soft noises around him.

He woke to someone walking into the rec room. He peeked over the back of the couch, hoping that it was Lockdown. Oil Slick glanced up at him and paused with fiddling with something on his wrist.

“Hello, Deadlock,” Oil Slick greeted in that weird accent of his. “I thought you would have been with Lockdown.”

“He’s doing repairs,” Deadlock replied as he folded his arms on the back of the couch. “I don’t want to be in his way.”

Oil Slick smirked and nodded. “Yes, it is a rather tight fit in those maintenance tunnels,” he agreed. “Lockdown barely fits himself.”

Deadlock shifted and tilted his head. “What’re you fiddling with?” he asked.

Oil Slick chuckled and pulled his incredibly long fingers away from his wrist. “Lockdown hasn’t taught you manners yet, it seems,” he commented. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a chemist what he’s doing?”

Deadlock blinked. “What’s a chemist?”

Oil Slick blinked. “It…you don’t know what a chemist is?” he asked. His voice sounded shocked and rather angry. “How old are you?”

“Old enough,” Deadlock snapped. “How’s it that big a deal to ask what the slag you do for a living? Lockdown didn’t tear my head off when I asked what a bounty hunter was.”

“The title is self-explanatory!” Oil Slick threw his arm out and Deadlock flinched.

It didn’t matter that Oil Slick was half the room away from him. The movement sent his denta on edge and he was already trying to formulate an escape plan.

Oil Slick lowered his arm slowly and just watched him for a long time. “I handle chemicals,” he said after a lengthy silence. “I specialize in corrosive materials, industrial-grade chemicals and cleaners with some…liberal experimentation.”

“Oh,” Deadlock nodded. “Chemists handle chemicals. That makes sense.”

“Forgive my outburst,” Oil Slick turned his hand so that his palm was facing Deadlock. “I am rather proud of my work and forget that some mechs don’t know the full extent of my research.”

“I shouldn’t have shouted either,” Deadlock relented. “Um, you said corrosive materials; is that why Lockdown doesn’t want me near your lab?”

“Undoubtedly,” Oil Slick chuckled. “He has a rather strange obsession with keeping you out of harm’s way, Deadlock.”

“I’m his apprentice,” Deadlock sat up taller and lifted his chin. “He doesn’t want to have to find a new one if I get really badly hurt.”

“I see,” Oil Slick smiled. His smile said that he had other ideas about the situation. Deadlock didn’t like it. “If that is how you see the situation, I will not try to dissuade you.”

“Thank you,” Deadlock nodded his head and slumped against the back of the couch. “So…what’s it like being a chemist?”

Oil Slick shifted his stance and pushed his shoulders back. “It is possibly the single most rewarding career around,” he said proudly. “Sure, the pay could be a little better and most people don’t like dealing with me, but there is nothing quite as satisfying as watching your creation settle into a temporarily stable state.”

“Cool,” Deadlock replied.

He had no idea what Oil Slick was talking about, but mechs liked it when you agreed with them. He was sure that the science behind it was fun, but he didn’t really care. It was too much for him to try to understand and he was much happier not knowing the intricacies.

“Very,” Oil Slick agreed. “I could explain the process, if you want.”

“Sure,” Deadlock shrugged a shoulder. He didn’t have anything else to do anyways.

* * *

 

“Where’s it hurt?” Lockdown asked as he wiped a sheen of condensation off of his shoulder.

“Further in,” Death’s Head replied. “Down near engines. Feels like a knife.”

“Probably debris in your lines again,” he sighed as he started shimmying to the wider walk-way near the engines. “Anything else?”

“No, just that,” she sighed. “He’s still scared.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” he soothed as he patted the wall behind him as he shimmied along. “Claustrophobia’s a fairly common fear.”

“I don’t want to scare him,” she whined.

“Death, you scare the slag out of me sometimes,” he teased. “You’re a terrifying, giant, killing machine.”

“Scout,” she grumbled and hit him with a low-hanging tube. “Haven’t caused mass-extinction in eons.”

“That you were awake for,” he chuckled as he pushed the tube back into the wall in front of him. “You know I love you,” he added as he felt the temperature increasing.

“You’d better,” she warned.

Lockdown grinned at the ceiling before he stepped out onto the wide walkway above the engine room. The heat blasted over him and he felt his intakes stutter. He walked fast, forcing his cooling fans to work as hard as they could to keep himself from overheating on the spot. Reaching the alcove on the other side of the room, he let out a large puff of air and watched the mist vanish into the much colder section of the ship.

“Where to?” he asked as he started down the passageway.

“Not too much further,” she sighed.

Lockdown shifted around a wall and looked at the chunk of metal stabbing into the floor. “Well…how the pits did you not notice that ram into you?” he asked.

“I don’t have optics there,” she grumbled. “What is it?”

“Looks like part of the wall got sheared off and implanted itself in the floor,” he replied as he knelt down. “Maybe when we had to go through that asteroid belt?”

“That…yah; I did get clipped,” she agreed. “Can you remove it?”

“I should be able to,” he replied as he knelt down and started wiggling the piece of metal back and forth. “What’s the kid doing?”

Death was quiet as she went searching for Deadlock. “In the rec room talking with Oil Slick,” she replied coldly. “I swear, if that…mech hurts him….”

“He’s not that stupid,” Lockdown grunted as he managed to get his fingers between the piece of metal and the sides of the hole it was in. “Scare him, maybe, but not hurt him.”

Death growled loudly and he laughed as he wrenched the piece of metal out of the floor. Sparks flew from the damaged floor and in immediately started repairing it. Death settled down into a moody silence.

* * *

 

Deadlock was waiting for him by the time he emerged from the interior of the ship. Setting the toolbox down, Lockdown wiped at the condensation on his chest and shoulders.

“Hey, kiddo,” he smirked. “How’s your day been?”

“Oil Slick thinks that you have me here for reason other than wanting me as an apprentice,” Deadlock blurted out.

Lockdown paused and glanced at the youngling. His optics were wide with a mix of discomfort and anxiety. Of course Oil Slick would say something like that; he liked drama too much for his own good.

“Oil Slick also thinks that Cosmic Rust is a suitable punishment for mechs that ignore his advances,” Lockdown shrugged. “Let him think what he wants, kiddo.”

“So you don’t want me here for any other reason?” Deadlock whispered.

Lockdown looked at the ceiling and let out a long sigh. “Kid, there are a lot of reasons why I put you on the ship,” he said carefully. “I’ll discus them with you when you’re a little bit older and not still…well, suffering through whatever slag you used to put up with on a daily basis.”

Deadlock scrunched his face up and grumbled something under his breath. “I hate it when adults say that,” he huffed.

“Them’s the breaks,” Lockdown teased before he reached out and carefully lifted Deadlock’s arm up. It was shaking minutely; he’d need his next infusion of medicine soon or he’d start having really bad withdrawals. “Come on; let’s go get that medicine in you.”

“But it tastes so gross!” Deadlock whined. “Why do I have to take them? Ratchet’ll never know!”

“I will and so will you,” Lockdown snorted. “This is what happens when you take circuit-speeders; you get addicted and it tears your systems apart when it isn’t injected constantly.”

Deadlock whined, but didn’t stop Lockdown from turning him around and gently pushing him down the hall towards the kitchens. He grumbled the whole way, whining about how gross his medicine was and how it wasn’t fair that he had to take it after so many months. It was good to hear, however annoying; it meant that Deadlock was acting his age and that his time in the Dead End hadn’t damaged him beyond repair.

Scooping Deadlock up, he tucked him under his arm and continued towards the kitchen. Deadlock squawked and protested the whole time, wiggling for freedom and whining about how he wasn’t a sparkling. Lockdown dropped him into a chair as soon as he walked into the kitchen and went to collect the medicine.

He didn’t like the smell of it; it was too strong and made his optics water. He knew for a fact that the taste was just as bad as the smell, but it helped clean circuit-speeder residue from a mech’s system and repair it bit by bit to prevent infection. He poured the prescribed amount into a small glass and put it down in front of Deadlock.

“You don’t leave until you drink it,” he warned as he sat down opposite Deadlock, blocking his only path to the door.

Deadlock glared at the glass for a moment. He reached out and picked the glass up, squared his shoulders and downed the thick, sludge-black medicine in one gulp. Lockdown winced at the hacking cough Deadlock emitted as he slammed the glass back down on the table.

“Well, if you keep that up, you’ll be drinking engex with the best of us,” he teased.

“It’s so gross,” Deadlock whined as he waved a hand at his face. “So gross!”

“It’s worth it,” he smiled. “Trust me.”

Deadlock grumbled and shuddered. “I want to spend the rest of the day shooting things,” he replied. “That will be a suitable ‘sorry’.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Lockdown grinned.

* * *

 

Oil Slick did his best not to shudder as the hologram materialized in his lab. Death’s Head’s hologram gave him the creeps. No one should look that much like Lockdown and speak with that haunting voice that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be really deep or really high. And the optics were wrong too; Lockdown’s were dark red while hers were energon purple, like someone had gouged her optics out and left the lens for the energon to pool against.

A quick glance drew an interesting observation, though. She had incorporated parts of Deadlock’s basic design into her chassis. He could see little pieces here and there, but she still looked overwhelmingly like Lockdown and it made his plating crawl while his intimate circuitry buzzed with want.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Do you think I can’t hear what you’re saying to Deadlock?” she asked. Her voice swung wildly between soprano and a bass that made his fuelpump kick hard.

“I have no intentions of harming the youngling,” he said carefully as he watched the hologram move through his lab. “I am merely trying to understand why Lockdown would bring him on board. He is not the most…empathetic of individuals. You know that better than I do, no doubt.”

Her optics moved to him and he shivered. He knew that Lockdown adored her and feared her with equal measures. When she stalked through his lab, he always understood why. She was a predator waiting for a chance to spring forward. He had seen her work with Lockdown to take down a particularly dangerous bounty and it was terrifying and enthralling.

He didn’t want to be on her bad side, but it was hard not to. She hadn’t liked him from the moment he set foot on her and it had only grown more hostile when he couldn’t learn the lyrical language that she spoke. One false step and he knew she wouldn’t hesitate to eject him out an airlocke as quickly as possible.

“Lockdown is not incapable of compassion,” she replied and cocked her head to the side. “You know how intense his passions can be. Deadlock simply appeals to a different passion than you or I do.”

“You care deeply for him,” Oil Slick ventured carefully.

“He is my crew; I will protect him with every fiber of my being,” she replied with an impatient snort.

“I would expect nothing less,” Oil Slick spread his hands carefully. “It is, after all, part of your function.”

Death’s Head watched him for a moment. Then she smiled and his fuelpump tightened uncomfortably in his gut. Lockdown’s mouth shouldn’t move like that; it was uncanny.

“You use words about as well as you do your chemicals,” she teased. “Just remember that I’m watching at all times and that I hear everything that happens inside of my chassis. You so much as threaten him and I will personally beat you senseless. Do we have an understanding?”

“Of course,” Oil Slick smiled.

“Good,” she nodded. “Oh, and Lockdown’s going to come see you eventually. I’ve been trying to give him a shove, but he’s being his usual stubborn self. Don’t waste away waiting for him.”

She vanished as quickly as she had appeared and Oil Slick shivered. He wasn’t sure where he stood with her; sometimes she was hostile, but then she acted like they were best friends. Was it a ship thing? She was the only sentient one that he knew of, but he really hoped it wasn’t just her. It would be really creepy otherwise.

* * *

 

Lockdown frowned at the flashing light on the console in front of him. It was a message over the commlines and he didn’t want to take it. He knew who it was. He knew where it was from. He would be slagged if he willingly answered it.

“I’m not answering it,” he grumbled.

“The sooner you get it over with, the sooner you get to sleep,” Death yawned.

Grumbling because she had a point, he reached out and pushed the button just below the flashing light. A hologram of a mech with a ridiculous blue helm and yellow horns materialized in front of him. The mech’s blue optics were difficult to make out since the hologram was made of blue light to begin with, but he knew they were there. Just the sight of the mech was enough to make his energon boil.

“Lockdown, when you receive this message, call me back immediately,” Dai Atlas ordered. “I have urgent business that I must discuss with you. Every moment spent idle is another moment one of our numbers is in danger and risks more of our people suffering the same fate. Regardless of our relations, I need you to call me back.”

The message ended and Lockdown growled. “I’m not…!”

“Call him,” Death’s Head ordered. “You know that his bounties are always fruitful.”

“You just want the free energon,” he snapped.

“Guilty,” she cackled. “But call him back. He sounded really stressed.”

“I’m glad you noticed that,” he growled. “Because I just want to put my fist through his face.”

“Dialing,” she sang before falling silent.

“You fracking heap of-!”

“Lockdown?” Dai Atlas’ voice rang through the bridge moments before the hologram of his face returned. “You took your time getting back to me.”

“Didn’t see the message until an hour ago,” Lockdown growled. “It took an hour to decide that whatever you had to say was worth my time.”

Dai Atlas’ optics narrowed. “There’s a situation at Crystal City,” he said calmly.

“Isn’t there always?” Lockdown sneered. “Everything is so dramatic with you, Atlas. Nothing can happen without it being a sign from Primus that the end times are coming.”

“Someone has been kidnapped, Lockdown,” Dai Atlas growled.

Lockdown fell silent. It must have been serious if Dai Atlas didn’t immediately snarl at him to use his proper title when addressing him.

“And you want me to get them back?” he asked.

“Preferably,” Dai Atlas sighed. “I’m willing to pay double your usual price.”

“Sweetening the pot a little,” Lockdown smirked and leaned forward. “But I’m sure you can do better than that.”

“Lockdown,” Dai Atlas’ face contorted and he offlined his optics. Lockdown watched every little twitch of the mech’s face as he willed himself through some decision that he didn’t want to make. “The mech that was kidnapped is a younging.” Lockdown’s spark clenched and he heard Death whistle uneasily.

“Atlas?”

“It’s Wing,” Dai Atlas sighed. “Wing’s been kidnapped.”

Lockdown’s fuelpump slammed hard into his fueltank, but his energon had gone cold. “I’ll be there within the day,” he promised.

He didn’t wait to hear Dai Atlas’ answer and hung up. Death’s Head was humming furiously around him, powering up the deep-space jump-drives and entering the coordinates for Crystal City. Lockdown was too numb to do anything himself. All he could think about was the smiling ball of curiosity that used to tail after him in Crystal City, begging to hear about another “offworld story”.

Tears welled in his optics and he braced his elbows on the console and pushed his face into his hands. He had mastered the art of silent crying long before he reached adulthood and the only sign that he was crying over his little brother being kidnapped was his shaking shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just get my jar ready for all of your tears.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author does not own The Transformers franchise and licence. Everything is written for fun.

Chapter 5

Deadlock watched Lockdown quietly. He didn’t want to say anything, but he was bursting with curiosity. He couldn’t remember seeing Lockdown this intense before. He hadn’t said a word since he announced that they were going to a place called Crystal City for a job. Oil Slick had kept quiet too and it was bothering him.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

Lockdown turned his head towards Deadlock. Deadlock swallowed nervously at the look in the red depth. They were hard, both with cold, calculating severity that he always got before a hunt and something he didn’t want to give a name to. If he had to guess, the job they were going to be doing was incredibly personal.

“I’m fine,” Lockdown said before he looked back at the console in front of him. “Am I making you uneasy?”

“You’re…you’re being really intense,” Deadlock admitted. “It’s a little, um, intimidating.”

Lockdown let out a soft chuckle and rubbed at his face. “Sorry kiddo,” he apologized. “I’ll explain more when I know more, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded.

Sitting back in his chair, Deadlock pulled his knees up to his chest. The ship was quiet and it made him uncomfortable. His headache had receded, but the numb sensation it left in its wake didn’t make him feel any better. He almost missed the constant pressure and itch. This silence was unnatural.

Lockdown had made three deep-space jumps to get into the same solar system that Crystal City was in. One deep-space jump drained a lot of power from the ship; three made him wonder how there was any power left to keep one engine running let alone all of them.

“You’ll want to buckle in,” Lockdown warned as he shifted to fasten a buckle around his hips. “We’ll be entering a pretty thick atmosphere pretty soon.”

Deadlock grimaced and quickly buckled himself into his chair. Re-entry sucked; he’d learned that the hard way when he’d almost been lodged in the ceiling of his room the first time the ship suddenly dipped unexpectedly. He didn’t want a repeat of Lockdown howling with laughter as he helped him down from the ceiling.

Deadlock felt the first bump of re-entry and offlined his optics. His fingers dug into the arms of his chair as the ship started shaking. The ship was thickly plated, but he could swear that he could feel the bridge heating up. It was unbearable and terrible and over before he had time to freak out.

Onlining his optics, Deadlock let out a soft whine. “I hate re-entry,” he complained.

“It was a little rough,” Lockdown agreed as he took control of the ship directly.

“Is there ever a good re-entry?” Deadlock huffed.

“Well, we didn’t blow to pieces,” Lockdown shot him a nasty smirk. “That’s a really bad re-entry.”

Deadlock blinked before he grinned. “Thanks for stating the obvious there, Captain,” he teased. “I don’t think anyone would have possible thought of that.”

Lockdown laughed and tapped a few buttons on the console in front of him. The panels around the bridges retracted and Deadlock stared at the scenery in awe. Mountains and canyons stretched out forever all around them. There wasn’t any organic life in sight, but it did little to dull the immensity of the planet.

Scrambling out of his seat, Deadlock rushed to the closest wall and looked down as far as he could. They flew over a canyon and he could just barely make out a river rushing along the bottom. They flew over an outcrop of rock and he spotted a flash of gray scales as an organic creature scurried out of sight. Something small and feathered zipped by beneath the wing of the Death’s Head, but it vanished before he had a change to get a better look at it.

“Take a look out front,” Lockdown called.

Looking to the front of the ship, Deadlock’s jaw fell open. A city that stretched across the horizon was growing bigger every second. He could see sunlight glinting off of buildings and small shapes zipping back and forth amongst the skyline. There was a faint haze that grew fainter as they approached.

“What’s that haze?” he asked as he moved towards the front of the bridge.

“Vaporized energon,” Lockdown chuckled. “The specialty of Crystal City. You wait until you’re in the city; you’re going to feel more alive than you have in your entire life.”

“Why?” Deadlock glanced over his shoulder.

“That energon’ll seep right into your lines from the air,” Lockdown nodded towards the city. “Bypasses your fueltank and everything. You’ll be fighting fit in no time.”

“That’s…that’s so cool!” Deadlock laughed. “Why don’t we come here more often?”

Lockdown’s smile faded a little. “I…there’s some bad history between me and the locals,” he shrugged a shoulder. “It’s easier to only come here when I have to.”

“I’m sorry,” Deadlock apologized.

Lockdown waved him off. “How’re you supposed to know?” he chuckled. “I’m the last mech you have to apologize to for slag like that, kid. Now sit tight; I have to concentrate so I don’t accidentally ram the old girl nose-first into a building.”

Deadlock turned to look out the window again. Lockdown swung wide around the city, turning them on an angle with the horizon. The engines gave a growl as the power to them was slowly cut and they coasted down towards the ground. Lights appeared along the buildings, guiding them safely through the mass of rock and metal to a long runway.

He heard the engines turn off as Lockdown pulled the nose of the ship up. They bumped down quietly onto the runway and Lockdown stood up.

“Come on, kiddo,” he sighed. “Stick close, okay? Crystal City looks pretty, but I don’t want you getting lost.”

“No problem,” Deadlock hurried after him. “Is Oil Slick coming with us?”

“All up to him,” Lockdown grimaced. “He’ll probably meet up with us later. He…can keep himself occupied.”

Deadlock nodded in understanding. “Occupied” could either mean something adult-related or something technically illegal. Either one were something that Lockdown insisted he stay out of until he was older. It was always “wait until you’re older” and he wasn’t all that fond of it. Right now, though, with how stressed Lockdown was, he wasn’t going to bring it up.

They reached the ramp leading down to the ground and Lockdown shifted the fingers on his good hand. Deadlock grabbed the hand and shifted closer to his mentor. He had not been expecting so many mechs milling around and it was overwhelming.

“Just stick close,” Lockdown soothed as they walked down the ramp. He shouted something at the milling mechs and they immediately moved past and into the ship. “Come on.”

Deadlock kept pace with his mentor, trying not to show how hard it was to do so. Lockdown’s legs were longer than his and his strides were long. Throw in Lockdown’s desire to get moving and his pace was almost impossibly fast. His intakes hitched as he stumbled and then he was airborn.

Yelping, Deadlock blinked as his arms locked automatically around Lockdown’s neck. Lockdown’s arms looped under his legs and he glanced back at him.

“You okay back there?” he asked. “It’s about to get really close and I figured that you’d rather be up high than being dragged behind me. Atlas will have my head if I’m late and I’d rather not have you watch me beat the slag out of him.”

Deadlock smiled as he leaned against Lockdown’s head. He watched the buildings as they walked by. He couldn’t figure out how they were built; they seemed to reach up forever while looping through one another. It was gorgeous, especially with how the light was reflecting off the surface. It was incredible.

“How long did it take to build this place?” he asked in awe.

“Generations,” he chuckled. “Feel any different?”

“The air’s kinda wet,” he commented as he lifted a hand up.

“That’s the vaporized energon,” Lockdown chuckled. “Give it a few minutes and you’ll be lucky if you can sit still. Best feeling in the world.”

Deadlock cocked his head to the side. He was starting to feel a lot more active, but he highly doubted that he wouldn’t be able to sit still. He wasn’t a sparkling anymore; he was capable of keeping himself still if he needed to.

Lockdown cut a path through the city. People melted away from him, eyeing him mistrustfully as they passed. He didn’t know the full story behind the looks, but he guessed that Lockdown had quite the reputation here, more so than in other places.

The mechs walking around them were beautiful. They were covered in flowing bits of armor and carried themselves proudly. There was a bounce to their step that he didn’t remember anyone having anywhere else. Their optics were clear and bright and they seemed happy with everyone and everything around them. Aside from the looks they shot Lockdown, they seemed really happy.

Almost scarily so.

“Is this normal?” he asked quietly. “They seem…really happy.”

“Part of the charm of the city,” Lockdown sighed. “We’re here. Keep your head down, okay?”

Deadlock nodded as he dropped down beside Lockdown. The building seemed to be the tallest one for miles around. It was huge and imposing and seemed to give off vibes that they were not welcome. He wasn’t sure how something that had been designed so beautifully could be unwelcome, but it managed.

“In there?” he asked.

“Yes,” Lockdown sighed as he walked up the steps to the door. “Stay close and don’t touch anything.”

* * *

 

Lockdown walked through the Halls of the Circle and did his best not to shudder. He hated this building. Hated everything it represented. Hated every last hypocritical inch of the place. He didn’t like that he was here and he didn’t like that Deadlock had to walk the halls with him. He didn’t want to expose him to this place.

“Axe,” he nodded to the mech waiting outside the door to Dai Atlas’ office.

“Lockdown,” Axe nodded in return. “Dai Atlas is waiting inside.” His optics flicked down to Deadlock and the finials on the side of his helm twitched. “You have an apprentice.”

Lockdown didn’t bother answering him as he brushed past him into the office beyond. Deadlock followed at his heels. Axe remained outside; presumably to keep anyone from disturbing them.

Dai Atlas was as huge as he remembered. Just as regal and imposing and stern as the last time he was in Crystal City. Just as cold and old and terrible as he remembered.

“Lockdown, you took your time getting here,” Dai Atlas commented coolly. “I expected you to be here sooner considering the fact that...,” his optics landed on Deadlock and his face grew colder. “You have another apprentice.”

“Another?” Deadlock echoed.

Lockdown made a small motion with his hand and Deadlock shuffled back a few steps. He wanted the kid to be quiet; he didn’t need or want to give Dai Atlas any sort of leverage against him, especially not with Deadlock.

“I was out in deep space, Atlas; it takes time to get here,” Lockdown growled. “Now cut the slag and tell me what’s going on.”

Dai Atlas glared at him before he wove his fingers together in front of his chest and leaned back in his chair. “We believe that Wing’s kidnappers are organic,” he stated coolly. “One of the many space-faring races that see us as little more than witless drones in need of a hard reset.”

“How long ago?” Lockdown asked.

“About a week.”

“A _week_?” Lockdown snarled as he slammed his hands down on the desk. “Are you FRACKING KIDDING ME?! You waited a _week_ to contact me?! They could be half-way across the galaxy by now!”

“They aren’t,” Dai Atlas relied with narrowed optics. “We’ve been monitoring the area and no ship has entered or left the atmosphere since Wing went missing. We simply haven’t been able to track them down.”

“And that’s where I come in,” Lockdown growled. “The last resort, as always.”

“I didn’t want to drag you into the situation seeing how personal it is for you,” Dai Atlas rolled his optics. “I would have preferred not involving you at all if it could help.”

“You’re a real class act,” Lockdown growled. “It’s been a week, Dai Atlas. You have no idea what those organics have been doing to Wing; he could be little more than a drone at this point. You’ve been dragging your feet long enough for that kid to be damaged beyond repair all because you don’t want to have sort of debt to me. You are disgusting, Dai Atlas.”

“Those are harsh words coming from the mech that left his brother behind while he went gallivanting across space,” Dai Atlas’ optics narrowed but his tone remained level.

Lockdown heard Deadlock stand up straighter and he growled. “Don’t you try to pull that card with me, Dai Atlas,” he warned. “I can’t make a living here with the laws being what they are. You made sure of that when I left the first time. I still support the kid any way that I can, leaping through whatever legal hoops you try to put in me way. Don’t you DARE tell me that I abandoned him when I left him in the hands of mechs that loved him and wanted nothing more than for him to grow up safe.”

“When was the last time you visited, Lockdown?” Dai Atlas growled as he stood up.

Lockdown smirked. He was winning the argument if Dai Atlas was standing up. He always tried to throw his size around if he couldn’t make his words work. The tactic never worked on him and never would. Dai Atlas was big, but that was all he was.

“The last time I was in the area,” Lockdown snorted. “Two vorns? Not even that long. I spent three months with him before I had to leave based on your new laws. Which, by the way, when did vagrancy become a crime here? I thought Crystal City was supposed to be a safe haven for all regardless of how long they wanted to stay. Did that change simply because I had the audacity to visit the mech that shared my ignition site?”

Dai Atlas’ armor rattled furiously and he made to move around the desk. The door opened behind them and Deadlock shuffled out of the way as Axe quickly moved to intercept his boss.

“I would like to point out to both of you that this argument is only delaying the rescue effort,” Axe stated calmly as he carefully guided Dai Atlas back into his seat. “Whatever your disagreements are, they can wait until after Wing has been successfully returned to his legal guardians.”

Lockdown did his best not to grimace. He wasn’t fond of Axe; he was too smart and knew how to manipulate the system in his favour. It was a dangerous combination. Axe had never given him a reason to show any real contempt, but if he continued with the small digs against him, he would actively show him what he thought of the mech.

“Do you have an idea where the organics could be hiding?” Lockdown asked. “Narrow down where I have to spread the net?”

“East of the City,” Axe nodded in the direction of the canyons. “Our scanners are not strong enough to penetrate the rock further than a mile. The scanners on your ship, however….”

“Will find them,” Lockdown nodded. “You don’t know anything else about the organics? Numbers, fire-power?”

“They’re strong enough to capture an almost full-grown youngling without harming him,” Axe inclined his helm. “That should be more than enough information.”

“Let’s hope so,” Lockdown nodded before he turned around.

Deadlock hurried over to him and walked beside him to the door.

“What is your name, little one?” Dai Atlas asked.

“Deadlock,” Deadlock replied immediately.

“That is not a name,” Dai Atlas sniffed.

“It’s mine,” Deadlock shrugged. “I like it.”

“Surely you must like your real name better,” Axe soothed.

“No,” Deadlock shook his head. “I like Deadlock better. And it’s not up to you to tell me differently.”

“Damn right,” Lockdown chuckled as he set a hand on Deadlock’s back and gently led him out of the room.

Deadlock grinned up at him until they reached the streets. “Can I ride on your back again?” Deadlock asked quietly.

Lockdown helped him up onto his back and started heading back to the ship. He commed Oil Slick and explained the situation as he walked, asking if he could start scanning the surrounding area, particularly towards the east. Deadlock was quiet for most of the walk until they were almost back to the ship.

“Why didn’t you bring Wing with you?” he asked softly. “He’s your brother and you don’t like it here.”

“Wing is…,” he sighed. “Most of the younglings here are…they aren’t able to survive anywhere else. They are raised…they’re isolated and not socialized with anyone outside of the city. I couldn’t take Wing with me without running the risk that he got himself killed.”

“Is that why you brought me with you?” Deadlock asked. “And the other apprentices. Because we reminded you of Wing?”

Lockdown chuckled and reached up to scratch under Deadlock’s cheek. “Hardly; you’re a lot different than Wing is and so were the other younglings I looked after.”

“Okay,” Deadlock murmured as he settled against Lockdown’s head.

Oil Slick was waiting on the ramp when they arrived. His arms were folded across his chest, but Lockdown could see his fingers moving against his arm. It was the only movement he was allowing himself, but he looked as nervous as a glitchmouse caught under the paw of a cybercat.

“What’s…wrong?” he stated to ask and the source of his discomfort stepped out to greet them.

Death’s Head grinned in her holomatter form, intricate and impressively complex headdress making a thousand tiny corrections with each movement. Lockdown grinned in spite of himself as the insanely tall holoform extended a hand towards him.

“Hope you don’t mind me dropping by, Lockdown,” she teased, her voice falling directly in the center of the deep and high pitched scale to make it even harder to tell what to make of her. “I heard through the grapevine that you landed and thought I’d lend whatever service you need of me.”

“Wonderful timing,” he played along as he grasped her hand and shook it. “Deadlock, this is Scout. She’s an old friend.”

Deadlock dropped off of his back and hid behind him. Death smiled down at Deadlock and extended her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Deadlock,” she soothed.

“Hi,” Deadlock murmured shyly as he reached out to take her hand.

They shook hands and Death straightened up. “So, what brings you here?” she asked.

“Wing’s been kidnapped by organics,” Lockdown grimaced. “It’s been a week.”

Death’s purple optics widened in horror and then narrowed in outrage. “Get that scanner of yours running. We’ve got organics to fry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for vaporized energon came from a club in London that has vaporized their alcohol so you can breath it in and get drunk that way. The energon would work in a similar fashion, only no buzz involved because Crystal City is too classy for that slag.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author does not own The Transformers licence. Everything is written fro fun.

Chapter 6

Lockdown watched the radar as Death’s scanner swept across the empty land around Crystal City. They weren’t finding anything and he could see irritation creeping into Death’s holomatter frame. All the intricate little pieces of her headdress were clicking and twisting around each other, shifting the appearance from elegant to dangerous.

“There’s too much interference from the city,” Lockdown sighed as he rubbed his optics. “Idiots must have picked up on some new organic pet trend.”

“That happens?” Deadlock asked from where he had curled up on his seat.

“Every few million years or so,” he nodded. “We’re going to have to get airborne.”

“All the workers are off the ship,” Oil Slick commented as he cleaned his talons. “We should be clear whenever you get the engines running.”

Lockdown snorted as he started fiddling with the controls. Death hovered by his shoulder, grumbling under her breath as she started her engines as slowly as possible. Being in Crystal City with the vaporized energon allowed her to be more active without the fear of overusing precious energon, but she still had limitations with Deadlock not being privy to her existence. They would both rather not terrify him with the knowledge that she was a living ship until he was ready.

As soon as they were airborne, they headed east out of the city. The scanners were still picking up movement behind them for miles before the city was a tiny speck on the horizon.  Lockdown and Death adjusted the scope of the scan, searching for organic life that wasn’t indigenous to the region. There was some specific enzyme that the local wildlife secreted that was unique to the planet and while Lockdown couldn’t pronounce the damn word, the scans could tell the difference between a local and a foreigner.

“There?” Death asked as she tapped the screen.

Lockdown squinted at the screen. There was a large cluster of organic signatures further east of their position. Death’s sensors were sophisticated enough to identify most of them as being from planetary origins. That sent up red flags immediately. Throw in the single Cybertronian signature and it was as close to a jackpot as they could hope.

“That would be it,” he nodded. “Slick, think you can get some guns together with the kid?”

“Of course,” Oil Slick smirked as he stood up. “Come along, Deadlock; Lockdown needs to be alone so he can concentrate.”

Deadlock glanced at Lockdown before he unravelled himself from his chair and followed Oil Slick without complaint. Death watched them go and Lockdown saw the shiver that passed through her.

“Oil Slick won’t hurt him,” he soothed. “He’s not stupid.”

“I don’t trust him,” Death growled as she turned her head almost all the way around to look at him. “He isn’t crew.”

“He’s transient; it’s in his nature,” Lockdown chuckled. “And you never complained about the sparklings I brought aboard. Last time I checked, none of them stuck around.”

“That’s different,” she grimaced. “And please don’t associate those darlings with that…aft.”

Lockdown shook his head in amusement. “Whatever you say, Death,” he relented. “How fast can you get us to that location?” he asked as he tapped the radar.

“At top speed in these rock formations?” she asked as she gestured out the window. “One joor. Give or take wild navigations.”

Lockdown didn’t like that answer. It was another joor that Wing was alone with the organics. It would take them even longer to infiltrate whatever base the kidnappers had set up and get him out. He’d already endured a week’s worth of torment. He didn’t want to force him to endure any more.

But Death had a point. The rock formations that were rising up around them made for poor navigation. She would have to concentrate all of her energy into making sure they didn’t ram into something. Even with him helping at the helm, it was not going to be a smooth ride.

“Do whatever you have to,” he sighed.

“We’re getting him back,” Death said stubbornly as she rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

Lockdown squeezed her hand back and settled comfortably into his chair.

It was a long joor. They left the sky behind them and slipped into a natural hole between the two mountains. Death had to cut her speed down even further as she navigated through the dark tunnels. Echolocators bounced images of the uneven surface into the bridge for Lockdown to help her navigate, but he mostly just sat in his chair and glared at the radar screen. It was Death’s show and he could only sit there and wait.

“This is as far as I can go,” Death sighed as they touched down. “It’s too narrow up ahead. I’d break my wings off just trying to fit.”

“Alright,” he nodded as he stood up. “Can you project your holomatter form that far?”

“Naturally,” she smirked. “Let’s go get those guns and eviscerate some organic scumbags.”

“I like the way you think,” he grinned as he led the way to where Oil Slick and Deadlock were prepping the guns.

* * *

“Stay close,” Lockdown ordered quietly as they slipped along the side of the tunnel.

Deadlock nodded behind him. The gun he had was almost too big for him; Lockdown needed to get him some decent youngling-oriented modifications so he didn’t look so gangly. No one was afraid of a gangly mech that looked like they were about to drop their gun on their feet.

Death paused beside him. Her headdress shifted and folded down around her neck. “Movement up ahead,” she whispered.

“Three confirmed,” Oil Slick grumbled over the comm-link. He had scouted ahead to keep them alerted to any potential ambush. “Want me to take them out?”

“Quietly,” Lockdown replied. “Hide the bodies too. No acid.”

“Acknowledged.”

Lockdown crouched down and waited beside Death. Deadlock pressed against his back and he could feel the youngling shivering. Reaching back, Lockdown gently squeezed Deadlock’s wrist.

“Cold?” he asked.

“A little,” Deadlock admitted. “I’ll be okay.”

Lockdown nodded his head and shifted to readjust Deadlock’s helmet. In the dark tunnels, their optics and biolights would give them away. It was a simple task to turn off their biolights for a few joors. Since walking around in the dark with their optics offlined was the worst idea in the entire world at the moment, they had specialized helmets on to keep the glow from illuminating the darkness around them. Deadlock’s helmet was a little too big for his helm, but Lockdown didn’t plan on him actually joining in a firefight.

“All clear,” Oil Slick said. “Hang a right as soon as you can.”

“Understood,” Lockdown replied. “Come on.”

Lockdown continued along the tunnel and turned right as soon as he could. Deadlock stayed behind him, his feet faintly brushing against his heels. Death brought up the rear, her footsteps almost non-existent. They travelled down the passageway and Lockdown spotted Oil Slick crouching below a shelf of rock.

“Spotted a way in?” he asked as he slipped down beside him.

“I believe so,” Oil Slick nodded. “There,” he pointed to a small gap across from them. “We can wiggle our way down there. You can hear the organics grunting sometimes. Best to take our time.”

“Agreed,” Lockdown grimaced.

He did not like the idea of having to wiggle his way down that hole. It was one thing to wiggle through Death’s interior to fix important components, it was another to go headfirst down a dark tunnel with no idea what he was dropping into.

“I’ll go first,” he sighed. “Slick, you wait until I’m a good ways in before you follow. Deadlock, you’re after him. Scout, bring up the rear.”

They gave a murmur of understanding before they slipped over to the hole. Lockdown pushed his gun in ahead of him before dropping to his belly and crawling inside. He could feel the rock scraping against his back as he crawled. It was disconcerting and it made him shiver in terror. There was several million tonnes of solid rock pressing down on him. It would only take a millisecond for everything to either collapse on top of him or, even more terrifying, the solid mass under his belly to bump upwards and squish him.

The tunnel angled downwards and he felt himself sliding most of the way. He pushed his elbows out to slow him down as he watched his gun dangle down in front of him as the tunnel opened into a dimly lit cavern. Crawling forward slowly, he eased his way down until he could dig his talons into the wall. Pulling the rest of his body out was simple and he dropped the last few feet to the ground.

Slinging his gun across his back, he paused at the right time to hear Oil Slick curse. He took a step back and lifted his arms to catch Oil Slick as he fell out of the opening in the ceiling. His face was scratched up for his efforts, but it was worth it to see the look of fright on the other’s face.

“There’s a drop,” he warned Deadlock over the comm-link as Oil Slick wiggled his way free of his arms. “I’ll catch you if you can’t get a good grip.”

“Coming down,” Deadlock warned.

Lockdown shifted backwards a half-step as Deadlock dropped into his waiting arms. He was up and moving just in time to allow Death to drop gracefully into his arms. She patted his shoulder in thanks before dropping to the ground.

“Where to now?” Deadlock asked quietly.

Death cocked her head to the side as her headdress shifted. “This way,” she whispered and slipped out of the cavern towards the light source.

They followed quietly at her heels, guns at the ready. They moved through three connecting hallways before Lockdown spotted one of the organics. It was ugly with bulbous features and thick fingers that didn’t look made for doing anything but shoving whatever it was eating into the opening in its face. Death stole forward silently and dispatched the gluttonous mass, stuffing its body into an alcove.

She poked her head around the corner and waved them forward. Oil Slick took up the rear position, keeping Deadlock safely sandwiched between him and Lockdown as Death led the way. They moved through three more corridors before she stopped outside a large cavern.

She shuffled quietly along the wall and peeked around the entrance. She let out a low growl and nodded her head.

“Jackpot,” she growled.

Lockdown shifted around her and looked into the cavern. Cages of all sizes were set deep into the rock wall. He couldn’t even begin to name all the creatures that were lying mournfully in their cells, blank eyes staring out at the menagerie of traffickers that were hauling supplies onto a massive ship. Fury prickled through his sensory net as he watched the organics. It was bad enough these things were kidnapping their own; they had to go after younglings too.

“Is that him?” Deadlock asked quietly from Lockdown’s elbow.

Lockdown glanced down and followed where Deadlock was pointing. Sure enough, curled up in one of the furthest cages from them was Wing. Lockdown felt sick just looking at him. His white armor was covered with dirt and grime and he could see energon stains where he had been beaten. There were gouges taken out of his protoform, damage that should have been treated instead of left to fester. They had to get him out of there.

“What’s the plan?” Oil Slick asked.

“He’s across the cavern; we need a distraction.”

“On it,” Death smirked before she slipped into the cavern.

“What’s she going to do?” Deadlock asked quietly.

“Knowing Scout, something drastic,” Lockdown chuckled.

Lockdown watched Death slip through the cavern and pause beside a crate. Without hesitating, she hoisted it over her head and whistled. Every head in the cavern turned towards her and she grinned widely.

“Hey, ugly; catch!” she shouted.

Lockdown bolted into the cavern as she threw the crate as hard as she could at the closest organic. The fleshbag exploded from the impact and the crate left a sticky mess on the floor. Death didn’t give them a moment to recover before she shrieked a war cry and charged. Her twin maces materialized and Lockdown watched her long enough to see an organic’s head cave in under the force of her blow.

Sprinting for the cages, Lockdown bypassed the chittering organics and headed for Wing. Oil Slick started breaking locks as he followed, releasing the stunned organics to add to the chaos. Deadlock was hot on his heels, gun slung across his back so that he wouldn’t trip on it in the mad dash across the cavern.

“If you’re done playing around, Slick, I need this one open!” Lockdown snarled.

“Keep your plating on,” Oil Slick rolled his optics before he popped the stopper off of one of his test tubes. “Back up.”

Lockdown backed away, signalling Dead lock to follow him. Wing was stirring behind the cage door, bright yellow optics peering fearfully at Oil Slick as he burned the lock off of the door.

“And we’re in,” Oil Slick announced as he swung the door open.

“On your feet,” Lockdown soothed as he stepped into the cage and helped Wing stand up.

“Lockdown?” Wing whimpered.

“I’m here, little one,” he soothed. “But you need to get moving, okay? We’ll cover your skids.” Turning to Deadlock, he carefully pushed the injured youngling towards him. “Kid, I need you to get him out of here. This’ll help you get back to the ship,” he added as he pressed a beacon into Deadlock’s hand.

“But,” Deadlock started to protest.

“Rule one of being a bounty hunter?” Lockdown asked.

“Listen to your experienced partner,” Deadlock murmured.

“Exactly,” Lockdown smirked. He peeled his mask back and kissed Wing’s helm. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t stop running.” After a moment’s thought, he kissed Deadlock’s helm and hugged both younglings to his chest. “Get moving.”

Deadlock nodded, grabbed Wing’s hand, and hauled him towards the entrance of the cavern. Lockdown and Oil Slick guarded them until they reached the entrance. Once the younglings were running back up the passageway, they turned and joined the fray.

* * *

 

Deadlock dragged Wing most of the way. He couldn’t be angry with the white youngling even though he wanted to be. He was injured, low on energon, and was suffering heavily from emotional, physical, and mental abuse. It really wasn’t his fault that he was crying and stumbling and fighting him every step of the way. He just really wished Wing would stop it.

“Come on,” he growled as they continued their gradual climb upwards. “It’s not much farther.”

“That’s what you said a while ago!” Wing sobbed. “I can’t…I can’t…!”

“You have to,” Deadlock snapped. “You either keep moving or you die here. How long do you think before those organics come crawling after us?”

Wing shuddered and did his best to keep up. Deadlock pulled him around a bend in the tunnel and paused. The beacon was telling him to continue onwards, but something didn’t feel right. Bending down, he picked up a small stone from the ground and tossed it forward.

The ground illuminated with strange glyphs and a siren rang out around them. Wing screamed and covered his head, sobbing profusely as Deadlock tried to think through the noise. He grabbed Wing’s arm and hauled him along behind him, charging headlong through the passageway.

He heard something chasing them further along the passage. Swearing, he pushed Wing to the ground and lifted his gun. He spotted movement in the darkness and fired. There was a loud yip and a sickening splattering noise. He saw eyes flash and teeth gleam in the darkness as something lunged for him. He fired again and the beast slumped to the ground dead.

“Hounds?” he asked fearfully.

“Big ones,” Wing whimpered. “They…their teeth….”

“Then we need to pick up the pace,” Deadlock ordered as he slung the gun over his back again. “Come on.”

“My legs….”

“I know,” Deadlock grunted as he hauled Wing to his feet. “Mine hurt too. But we have to keep moving. You can have what you want from my stash of treats when we get back to the ship.”

“Okay,” Wing smiled weakly.

Taking Wing’s hand again, Deadlock started running. The beacon led them through the tunnels and as they climbed, things started to look vaguely familiar. Twisting around a corner, Deadlock dragged Wing behind a rock outcrop and covered his mouth.

“Off,” he whispered and tapped Wing’s optics.

The bright yellow optics offlined without question and he hid his face against Deadlock’s chest. Deadlock stayed perfectly still as he watched the organic thing walk past their hiding spot. It was terrifying with too many limbs and too many eyes and too many teeth. He couldn’t see what colour it was in the darkness, but he had a feeling that it was sickly and disgusting, just like the rest of it. It lumbered past their hiding spot, growling to itself as it continued down into the tunnels.

Deadlock waited until it was out of sight before he dragged Wing behind him. “Come on,” he whispered. “We’re close.”

“Primus’ blessings,” Wing sighed happily.

Deadlock nodded his head and hurried along the passage. The beacon started beeping and he felt the familiar tingle of the ship’s EM field brush against his. He almost laughed in delight as he charged the last bit of the way.

He clambered up the ramp onto the ship and dragged Wing through the halls to the command center. Wing collapsed to the ground and refused to move, so Deadlock left him and climbed into Lockdown’s chair.

He stared at the instrument panel and tried to figure out which one would get him to Lockdown’s comm-link. Taking a guess, he pressed one and the sound of fighting filled the room. Wing flinched and curled into a ball, covering his audios as energon-curdling screams echoed around.

“Lockdown, you there?” Deadlock asked. “We made it to the ship.”

“Good!” Lockdown snapped. “Get on the comm-link and call Dai Atlas. Tell him that Wing is secure and that we need backup. Now.”

“It’ll take them forever to get here!” Deadlock yelped. “You’ll…!”

“We’ll be fine; just call him. Now, Deadlock!”

The line went dead as Lockdown swore. Shaking, Deadlock stared at the panel again. The ship was humming around him and he reached blindly for a different set of buttons. Time seemed to stretch on forever as his fingers moved on their own, following directions he couldn’t understand, and then Dai Atlas’ voice filled the room.

“Lockdown, what is the situation?”

“This is Deadlock,” he replied. “Wing is safe with me on the ship, but Lockdown is still fighting the organics. We need backup.”

“I can’t risk my mechs for him,” Dai Atlas replied gravely. “I’m sorry, young one. Get Wing out of there. It’s what he would have wanted.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Deadlock shouted. “We just risked our skidplates for you and you won’t even come help?!”

“Lockdown is a full-grown mech, Deadlock; he will understand the situation,” Dai Atlas tried to pull that stupid “I’m an adult” tone, but it wasn’t working.

Deadlock opened his mouth to retort, but another voice beat him to it. It filled his head, driving him to his knees as the whole ship shook with the force of its fury.

“YOU OWE LOCKDOWN EVERYTHING, DAI ATLAS,” the voice roared. “YOU CANNOT PULL THIS SLAG, NOT WITH ME. SEND YOUR MECHS HERE NO OR YOU WILL KNOW THE FULL FORCE OF MY ANGER!”

Deadlock grabbed his head and whimpered. Dai Atlas had fallen silent and Wing wasn’t moving.

“Very well,” Dai Atlas replied after a long silence. “Warships are en route to your location.”

“Thank you,” the voice growled in a much lower voice.

The comm-link fell silent and Deadlock looked up at the sound of a frustrated growl. Turning his head, he gawked at Scout as she stood trembling beside the door.

“Fracking Pit-spawn,” she growled as she rubbed her optics. “Can’t even be trusted to pull the mechs he hired out of a firefight. Ugh, why did they ever agree to give him any sort of power?”

“You’re supposed to be with Lockdown!” he shouted as he got to his feet.

“I am,” Scout tilted her head to the side. “There’s a lot about me that you don’t know, Deadlock. You should rest.”

“But Lockdown!”

“Will be fine,” she soothed and smiled. “Dai Atlas’ mechs will be here soon enough and then we’ll really raise the Pits. You’ve done everything you can for now. Rest.”

Deadlock frowned but felt his systems starting to shut down. The ship was humming again, a tune that he was certain was a lullaby. Shaking his head, he climbed onto Lockdown’s chair and curled up, pillowing his head on his arm. Scout deposited Wing on another chair, stroking over his delicate helm ornaments. Deadlock blinked and sighed as his systems shut down.

He was exhausted.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author does not own The Transformers licence. Everything is written for fun.

Chapter 7

Deadlock woke to the sound of the engines starting. Blinking his optics rapidly, he looked at Wing in confusion. They looked at each other for a long moment before they both jumped out of their chairs and raced down the hallway.

“LOCKDOWN!” they shouted in unison.

Deadlock led the way, heading for the ramp. He didn’t know how far Lockdown was from the only way onto the ship or for how long he had been on the ship. He couldn’t have gotten too far, right? He would want to come check on them, right?

They barrelled around a corner and Wing shrieked in surprise. Deadlock swore and tried to stop, only to fall on his aft and scramble backwards. Lockdown and Oil Slick were covered head to foot in organic gore. It was horrific and Deadlock’s fueltank was spinning as he tried very hard not to purge.

“Lockdown?” he asked quietly.

“I was going to come see you two when I got cleaned up,” Lockdown sighed playfully. “As you can see, I’m really filthy. Organics just have no respect for personal space when they die.”

Deadlock let out a weak laugh as he got to his feet. Wing trembled behind him, but they bolted at the same time and clung to Lockdown’s waist. They didn’t care about the gore or the fact that it squelched against their faces and chests. They just wanted to know that Lockdown was safe and whole.

“Easy, easy,” Lockdown soothed as Oil Slick continued to the washrack. “I’m fine. You don’t have to squeeze so much.”

“Miss you,” Wing mumbled. “Gone for so long.”

Deadlock nodded miserably. He tightened his grip on Lockdown’s waist and pressed his face into Lockdown’s side. He had been worried and he was happy that his mentor was safe. He didn’t want to leave his side.

“Well, if you two are going to be little barnacles, at least walk with me,” Lockdown teased as he started walking.

Deadlock smiled meekly as he shifted his grip to hold onto Lockdown’s arm. Wing followed his lead, carefully grabbing Lockdown’s arm above his hook. They were both covered in gore now; all over their chests and faces and Deadlock could feel it starting to itch.

Lockdown walked slowly, letting them set the pace. They had a joor before they were out of the tunnels and then an even longer time before they reached Crystal City. There was no rush.

Oil Slick was leaving by the time they reached the washracks. He paused with his towel against the side of his face and snorted. Deadlock stared, missing what Oil Slick said in favour of taking in the odd sight of Oil Slick’s unhelmeted face. He was an interesting looking mech even without his weird head-covering.

“Stop gawking at the nice mech,” Lockdown teased as he looped an arm around Deadlock’s waist and hoisted him over his shoulder.

“Hey!” Deadlock shrieked in surprise. “Put me down!”

“I will,” Lockdown smirked as he stepped into the decontaminator. “After I’m sure that you aren’t going to trip over your feet.”

Deadlock glared at him as Wing laughed. Lockdown turned the decontaminator on and dropped Deadlock to his feet as soon as the jets started spraying from all directions. Deadlock flared his plating in alarm and wiggled, not at all pleased with the pressure beating down on him. Wing wiggled and tried to hide behind Lockdown, only to figure out too late that there was a jet right behind him. He squealed and flailed and flopped onto his skidplates.

“Well, aren’t you two just a couple of grumps,” Lockdown smirked as he knelt down and pulled a cloth out of his subspace. “Come here; precious babies need to be cleaned first.”

Deadlock squawked angrily at the name and tried to dodge Lockdown’s fingers, but it didn’t help. Lockdown caught him easily and started scrubbing at the organic grime that was leaking down his face. Wing didn’t escape either; Lockdown had him pinned against the wall with a hip while he worked. Wing pouted and wiggled, but it couldn’t get him free from Lockdown.

“There, all clean,” Lockdown teased as he ruffled the top of Deadlock’s head. “Now step into the jets and make sure that I got everything. Wing, your turn and don’t you clamp your armor down. I am not getting yelled at because you have flesh rotting between your plating.”

Deadlock grumbled as he stepped into the center of the streams and flared his plating. He watched Lockdown and Wing out of the corner of his optics. He was scared to watch but he was also curious. Was he going to be jealous of Wing because he meant something special to Lockdown? He didn’t want to be, but he was scared that he would be.

Lockdown had been rough and playful with him while cleaning his plating. He was much gentler with Wing. Wing was leaning into the cloth, smiling up at Lockdown with such a look of hero worship that Deadlock felt embarrassed for him. Lockdown didn’t seem to notice and was alternating between scrubbing Wing’s white plating and tickling him. It was cute.

Wing joined him in the spray and flicked his plating around like a bird in a bath. Deadlock squinted to keep the fluid out of his optics and glanced back at Lockdown. His mentor was sitting down on the floor of the chamber cleaning what was left of the organic sludge off of him.

Wing gave him a sidelong look and grinned mischievously. Deadlock glanced at him and returned the grin. He flicked his fingers against Wing’s hip, counting off for them.

Twisting, they both turned and pounced on Lockdown, trying to wrestle him to the ground. The most they got was a surprised “frack?!” before he easily pinned the both of them to his sides and held them there.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he teased as they tried to wiggle away. “All that work I did to get you clean and this is how you thank me? How ungrateful.”

Deadlock let out a playful growl and tried to break free. Lockdown let him slip loose, only to grab him by the heel and drag him back to blow raspberries on his stomach. Deadlock squealed and wiggled, shouting at Lockdown to stop it as Wing laughed.

It was terrible and humiliating and he loved it. There was something so innocent about the whole affair that made him relish it even as his cheeks burned with mortification. Wing was laughing, Lockdown was laughing, and he was laughing too. It was like being a sparkling and not having to fear anything in the world.

It felt like home.

When they finally toweled off and landed in Crystal City, Lockdown rubbed Deadlock’s helm. “You stay on the ship,” he ordered. “I’ll drop Wing off on my own. Don’t want you getting caught in between anything.”

He wanted to argue, but he stayed quiet. Wing waved as they left the ship and Deadlock waved back. He watched the two of them vanish into the crowd before he went to find Scout.

She was lounging in the control room when he stormed in. Something about her relaxed posture infuriated him and he stormed over, fluffing his armor up.

“What game are you playing?” he demanded angrily. “One minute you’re with Lockdown and the next you’re on the ship?”

Scout sat up slowly, her headdress shifting up behind her head. The delicate filaments looked glorious, black and gold and red mixing together in such a complicated design that he couldn’t follow where one filament ended and the next began. She regarded him coolly for a long moment before smiling.

“What if I told you that the ship you’re standing on isn’t really a ship?” she asked.

“What?” he asked in confusion. Some of the heat in his words vanished. What sort of question was that?

“The ship,” she gestured around her. “What if I told you that it wasn’t really a ship but rather something else entirely?”

“It’s a ship,” he replied. “What the slag else could it be?”

Scout grinned widely. “So many other things, Deadlock,” she cooed.

“I’m not playing some ‘imagination’ slag like a fracking sparkling!” Deadlock snapped. “Now tell me what your deal is before I…!”

“Before you what?” Scout’s tone turned dangerous and Deadlock took an instinctive step backwards. “You aren’t ready for my life story,” she said with a tilt of her head. “But soon, I think.”

“How can you know that?” he demanded.

“Next time Lockdown has to do repairs inside the ship, go with him,” Scout replied.

“What does that have to do with anything?” he snapped.

“Just trust me,” she grinned.

She winked and vanished. Deadlock’s plating flared in alarm and he looked around. She could turn invisible? That would make sense if she followed them back to the ship, but she was supposed to stay with Lockdown and not follow them during that fight. So where was she?

Deadlock swallowed and backed out of the room. He turned in the hallway and took a few shaky steps forward as the door slid shut behind him. He felt pressure on his shoulders and air brushed against his neck.

“Boo,” Scout whispered.

Deadlock let out an undignified scream and bolted down the hallway. He ran straight to his room, locked the door behind him, and hid under the blankets on his berth. She didn’t follow him, but he could have sworn the incessant humming of the ship sounded like laughter.

* * *

 

Lockdown glared at Dai Atlas as Wing’s caretakers covered the youngling in kisses. Dai Atlas wasn’t meeting his gaze, focusing instead on Axe as his SIC spoke with the caretakers. He wasn’t impressed, but he wasn’t going to start shouting while Wing was present. The kid wouldn’t know anything about what he was yelling about and it would only upset him.

The caretakers thanked Lockdown one more time before they bundled their charge up and started back towards their home. Lockdown waited until they were out of the room and likely out the door of the building before he rounded on Dai Atlas.

“You are out of your fracking mind,” he snarled. “He’s going to have nightmares for years about this!”

“Which is why the mnemosurgeons are necessary,” Dai Atlas replied coldly.

“No, no they won’t,” Lockdown growled. “All it will do is hide the reason why he wakes up screaming. It’ll hide why he’s scared to be near anything organic. It won’t help him deal with anything.”

“Your ways are not ours,” Dai Atlas growled.

“Your ways don’t work!” Lockdown snarled. “All you create are perfect little dolls that can’t survive anywhere but here. How is that a life, Atlas? How can you look at every youngling and adult that has had needles in their processors and say with a straight face that mnemosurgery works?”

“We don’t need your criticism, Lockdown,” Axe warned. “This practice has served us well for generations.”

Lockdown curled his good hand into a fist and fought with the desire to bury it in Axe’s face. This subject was the reason he rarely came to see Wing, why he broke contact with his caretakers, and why he avoided the city all together unless the pay was good or Death really needed the energon. For all their talk about utopia and paradise, Crystal City was a death-trap like any other. All its perfection was a spit-shine and even the smallest scratch revealed the festering wound beneath.  

“Why won’t you just pay a psychiatrist like a regular city?” he demanded.

“None will work out here,” Dai Atlas sniffed.

“Well maybe the lack of fracking PAY has something to do with that,” Lockdown snapped. “Doesn’t the fact that the High Council of Cybertron is willing to send all the mnemosurgeons you desire worry you?”

Dai Atlas and Axe exchanged looks and Lockdown knew that the conversation was over. They didn’t want to examine the obvious. It worked and everyone was happy, so what was the issue? They didn’t want change, they didn’t want improvement; to them, there was nothing left to improve. It was why Crystal City would die out. It would grow as stagnant as Cybertron and die.

He just hoped that Wing was old enough to leave with him by the time that happened. If not, there was nothing he could do to save anyone.

“I’ll leave; I know when I’m not welcome anymore,” he growled. “I’ll stay long enough to refuel my ship and gather supplies.”

And visit one person in particular, but that was something that didn’t need to be said. They would know; it was the only other person on the planet that he spoke to.

“Primus’ Light guide you,” Dai Atlas inclined his head. “I will wire the credits to your account.”

“Thank you,” he snorted. “Primus’ Light and whatever.”

Storming off, Lockdown headed deeper into the City. The further from the bustling core he went, the older the buildings became and the more run-down and broken everything looked. It didn’t sparkle like the areas near the port did; light barely seemed to reach the road from the over-crowded skyline.

He continued on to a small door set into an unassuming building that had seen better days. He knocked on the door and snapped the passcode to the mech standing behind the little slide in the door. The yellow optics blinked before the slide was closed and the door opened.

“The usual tenant?” the guard asked.

“Yes,” Lockdown growled as he stepped into the building.

“Follow me,” the guard turned and started down the hallway.

Lockdown followed the guard, reining his speed in so he wasn’t constantly stepping on the other mech’s heels. No one ever moved fast enough in this City, not even the guards of their “retreat”. They walked down a flight of stairs and the hallways became lined with doors with number carefully etched onto them. Behind each door was a mech in various stages of mental degredation.

Most of them were muttering to themselves in the furthest corner of their “apartment”. He knew that most of them were suffering from botched mnemosurgery that left them beyond repair. One or two were criminals that had undergone lobotomies that left them as little more than drones that drooled on themselves. The guest he was looking for was in one of the nicer apartments and had most of his wits left intact.

The guard unlocked the door to room 23 and glanced at him. “One hour. Max,” he warned.

“I know the drill,” Lockdown growled. “Now get.”

The guard backed away, glaring at him as he stepped through the door into the room beyond. The apartment had an air of calmness to it that made his plating rattle happily. The rooms had been painted white with swirling designs in gold and blue that felt good to look at. They were calming and relaxing and he wanted nothing more than to stare at them for all eternity.

“Lockdown, have you come to visit?” a voice called from the living room.

“I have,” he called back.

Stepping around a wall, he smiled at the mech seated on the floor. White, gold, and black armor gleamed in the dim lighting. Thin, cloth-like armor draped the floor around him. An elegant helmet with a pronged horn adorned his head, one that Lockdown had seen him remove on a number of occasions.

“You look well, Master Yoketron,” Lockdown greeted the old mech as he sat down across from him.

“As well as can be expected,” Yoketron smiled, his blue optics narrowing as he smiled. “How is _Shadow of Death_?”

“Well,” he inclined his head. “At least as well as can be expected with limited energon and no contact with her own people.”

“Yes,” Yoketron’s smile fell. “It is tragic. So many left without Voices…if only these leaders had not chosen to turn their back on them.”

“Time has a habit of making us forget about each other,” Lockdown shrugged a shoulder. “I’m sure that those without Voices will find them eventually.”

“We can only hope,” Yoketron nodded.

His optics dimmed and Lockdown settled in for a long spell of silence. He was never sure where Yoketron went when he had one of his spells, but he learned not to panic the second time it happened. It gave him time to look his old mentor over and make sure that the shining armor wasn’t masking any sign of abuse. He knew that Dai Atlas’ underlings liked to come abuse some of the tenants whenever they were having a bad day.

Nothing like tormenting those that fell through the cracks of their paradise to brighten their mood. Throw in the one botched example of shadow play and it was the best day of the century. He knew it wouldn’t take much to hurt the old mech; as soon as he had one of his episodes he was incapable of defending himself.

He’d walked in on Yoketron getting beaten once. The guards had tried to delay him, but as soon as they tried to cite various rules to him, he knew something was wrong. He’d bolted past them and almost kicked the door in when he heard the sound of fists hitting armor. Yoketron’s helm and face had been badly injured and he still had a limp, but those injuries were nothing compared to the Pits he had unleashed on Yoketron’s assailants.

Yoketron blinked and lifted his head. “Sorry, Lockdown; are you hungry?” he chirped as he got to his feet. “How rude of me not to offer you something to eat.”

“It’s fine,” Lockdown laughed. “I’m good.”

“That’s…good,” Yoketron swayed and pressed a hand to his helm. “Oh…dear.”

Lockdown bolted to his feet and caught the old mech before he smashed face-first into the floor. Gathering the mech into his arms, Lockdown carried Yoketron over to the couch and set him down. Yoketron’s optics were dim again and his breathing was a little uneven. Grumbling to himself, Lockdown went to get a heating blanket so that the old mech didn’t start shivering.

Tucking the blanket under Yoketron’s body, Lockdown sat down on the floor and rested his back against the couch. “I need to get you off this planet,” he murmured. “Let you see Cybertron on last time. If Atlas wasn’t such a fracking glitch about you, I’d have done it a long time ago.”

Yoketron let out a string of nonsense words and Lockdown leaned his head back. He started humming softly, hoping that the familiar words helped soothe the old mech. The words were in whatever ancient language Death and the rest of her kind spoke.

He couldn’t even begin to translate the name of the language, but it roughly meant “Primus’ Hymns”. Considering it was full of singing notes and hums and other noises, he could understand the origin. Considering Death’s head wasn’t solid in her alternative mode, it made sense to have a language based on hums rather than words. Regardless, the singing always seemed to sooth Yoketron during the worst of his fits.

“Lockdown?” Yoketron’s voice sounded very small. “Can…can you feel the change?”

“No,” Lockdown replied as he shifted around to look at the old mech. “Am I supposed to?”

“Your bond with…what is it that her name is? Yoketron’s optics narrowed.

“I call her Death,” he shrugged a shoulder. “But I suppose the proper name would be _Death_ ,” he said the word in Hymnian.

“Yes…one of the Warrior castes?” he frowned.

“Advance stealth scout ship,” he nodded. “Why?”

“Perhaps she is not old enough to notice,” Yoketron mused. “But something is coming. Something old and dangerous, far more dangerous than we can imagine. The old ones can feel its return. They grow uneasy.”

“You telling me a prophecy?” Lockdown teased.

“I am telling you only what _Dancer_ has told me,” Yoketron sighed. He suddenly looked centuries older than what he was and Lockdown shivered in spite of himself. “Something is coming and we are going to either see the dawning of a new age or the death of all that we know.”

Lockdown smiled politely and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind, Yoketron. You should rest.”

Yoketron offlined his optics and let out a long sigh. “There was once a time where I would have laughed at such a suggestion,” he murmured softly. “I feel so old. Old and feeble and useless.”

“No one stays young forever,” Lockdown patted Yoketron’s shoulder. “Your age had to catch up to you sooner or later.”

“Oh, _Dancer_ ,” he sighed softly. “If only I could see you one last time.”

Yoketron’s venting evened out and Lockdown sat beside him until the guard came to retrieve him and show him out of the building. He didn’t put any stock to what the old mech said; he was barely aware of his surroundings most of the time. Vague apocalyptic prophecies were nothing new when the minds of the great began to fail.

Stepping out into the City, Lockdown let out a long sigh. Time to go get supplies and prep the ship for launch. He wanted out of here as soon as he could. He needed to put space between him and the City and get Deadlock a safe distance before the Council decided that mnemosurgery was in his best interest.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author does not own the license for The Transformers. Everything is written for fun.

Chapter 8

Lockdown stepped onto the ship and frowned. “Where’s the kid?” he asked.

Death snickered. “Hiding in his room,” she replied sweetly.

“What did you do?” he groaned and rubbed at his face.

“Spooked him,” she cackled. “It was hilarious! Oh, you should have seen his face.”

Lockdown let out a long suffering groan. She always did this. As soon as his apprentices met her holoform for the first time, she felt the need to terrorize them.

“You realize I’m going to have to play damage control now, right?” he demanded as he headed for Deadlock’s room.

“He’ll be fine,” Death laughed. “He’ll follow you around for a little while and then we’ll finally get to talk.”

“You have a really twisted manner of getting the kids to talk to you, you know that right?” he sighed.

“Hey, it gets them into me, doesn’t it?” she asked.

Lockdown bit down on his lip hard and picked up his pace. Laughter boiled in his chest and he did his best not to let it out too soon. Death was silent for a moment and then the ship let out an uncomfortably high squeal.

“That is not what I meant! Primus’ Light, that is not what I meant!” she wailed. “You know that’s not what I meant!”

“You said it, not me,” he cackled as he slumped against the wall. “Primus, you just blurted that out and sounded so proud of yourself!”

Death bumped the wall outward and sent him sprawling on his face. He was still cackling, curling into himself as he howled with laughter. The floor bumped him down the hall until he rolled into another wall. It did nothing to stop his laughter and Death let out a frustrated burst of static before falling silent and refusing to speak with him.

When his laughter subsided, he noticed Deadlock looking down at him in confusion. “You okay?” he asked slowly.

“I’m fine,” he soothed as he slowly sat up and stretched. “Nothing like a good laugh to chase away anger,” he grinned. “How’re you feeling?”

“Okay,” Deadlock shrugged a shoulder. “Scout…she’s weird.”

“You have no idea,” he chuckled as he got to his feet and stretched. “Mmm, don’t suppose you’ve seen Slick around?”

“Holed up in his lab,” Deadlock shrugged. “I haven’t seen him since he left the washracks.”

“Ah, well,” Lockdown shrugged. “Want to help me with the launch?”

“We’re leaving already?” Deadlock frowned.

“Can’t stick around too long or I might go on a murder spree the likes of which has never been seen,” Lockdown sighed.

“But you said we’d go explore,” Deadlock’s optic grew pale and moist.

“Deadlock,” Lockdown knelt down to be on optic level with the kid. “I know you like to explore every planet and port that we go to, but we can’t stay here. We’ve overstayed our welcome and Dai Atlas may arrest us if we aren’t gone by the time the sun rises in the morning.”

Deadlock hung his head and nodded. “Okay.”

“We’ll stay twice as long at the next station,” he promised.

“Will we be back in this sector soon?” Deadlock asked as he followed Lockdown down the hallway.

“Not likely.”

“What about Wing? Won’t he miss you? He’s going to be really messed up over this; wouldn’t it be better to stick close?”

Lockdown let out a long sigh, but continued on to the command center. “Kid, it’s best to leave that train of thought behind,” he replied.

“Why?”

“Because Wing isn’t going to know a damn thing about his kidnapping by this time tomorrow.”

“What?” Deadlock stopped following him.

Lockdown stepped into the command center and sank into his chair. “Crystal City has a bad habit of modifying the mind of sparklings and younglings to keep them from developing mental illnesses,” he explained. “To keep Wing from developing Post-traumatic Stress Disorder, they’ll bury the memories and pretend it never happened.”

“That…I don’t,” Deadlock stammered as he fell into the chair beside Lockdown. “Does it work?”

“To a degree,” Lockdown sighed as he prepped the ship for launch. “He’ll wake up screaming at night not or might be triggered by the sight of organics and cower with no understanding of why he’s reacting like that. Or, if the mnemosurgeon is incredibly incompetent, he might remember everything at the worst possible moment.”

Deadlock fell silent beside him as Death slowly started rolling down the runway. With a roar of her engines, Death took flight and shot into the sky. Lockdown navigated out of the city and a good ways away before angling them for an exit orbit.

“Is it really that bad to lock away memories that are causing problems?” Deadlock asked softly as Death’s armor lowered over the glass surrounding the command center.

Lockdown looked at his apprentice as he set the ship for a deep-space jump. “I know that many would be happy to squirrel their foulest memories away so that they can live peacefully,” he agreed, “but tell me, Deadlock, would you really be you without them?”

Deadlock pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them. “There’s things I want to forget,” he murmured. “Is that bad?”

“No,” Lockdown soothed as he turned to rest a hand on Deadlock’s shoulder. “There’s a lot of things I wish I could forget too, but we’re stronger for living with them.”

Deadlock glanced at him and looked like he was about to say something, but closed his mouth. Looking at the floor, he sighed heavily.

“I don’t see an issue with forgetting; some things are better forgotten,” he murmured.

“Maybe,” he sighed. “But I really don’t think you want a mnemosurgeon in your head. It’s…unpleasant.”

“You’ve had it done?” Deadlock frowned at him.

“I grew up in Crystal City,” he sighed and watched as the stars seemed to stretch away from them as Death jumped from one sector to another. “I…I’ve had more surgeons in my head than I want to admit. I was a trouble child, always sticking my nose where it shouldn’t be. I’ve seen things that no sparkling should see and the higher ups made me forget.”

“You remember now?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to remember?”

“No,” he admitted. “No, there’s a lot of slag that I’d like to forget. There’s so much that I’ve done and seen and a lot of it still haunts my nightmares.”

“There’s a ‘but’ in there,” Deadlock smirked.

“But,” Lockdown grinned, “those terrible memories helped make me that fracker I am today. I could be a sweet, well-adjusted little mech that didn’t have a foul thought in his mind, but where would that get me? I’m resourceful and fast and quick-witted and I wouldn’t change it for the universe.”

He glanced at Deadlock and smiled at the thoughtful look on his apprentice’s face. Deadlock shifted and dropped his legs to the ground.

“Can we go shoot things now?” he asked. “Part of the payment was new weapons, right? I want to see how they fire!”

Lockdown grinned mischievously. “Oh yes; I’m sure you’re going to like more than a few of them.”

* * *

 

Deadlock grimaced as he sipped his medicine. He hated this stupid medicine. He hadn’t experienced any shakes or system draining for a few joors. He was fine, but Lockdown made him continue taking it. Something about still having lots left and he was going to use it up.

At least the guns had been fun to shoot. Lockdown only let him shoot the smaller ones, but considering one of the larger ones knocked Lockdown flat on his aft after one shot and left a sizeable dent in his chest, he wasn’t too offended. They had left the shooting range in complete chaos with broken pieces strewn about.

He tried to set the cup down and Lockdown clucked. “All of it.”

“But I don’t need it!” Deadlock whined.

“Yes you do; drink it,” he warned. “You don’t want to see what happens when you don’t drink it all.”

Deadlock grumbled and downed the last few mouthfuls. “Happy?” he huffed.

“Very,” Lockdown smirked as he stretched out in his chair. “Mmm, think we can take a little break for a while. Go explore the stars a bit.”

“What about bounty hunting?” Deadlock frowned.

“We made double my usual pay on this last one,” Lockdown grinned. “Throw in your modest chunk and we’re set for a good while. Long enough to get you some better armor, skinny-mini.”

Deadlock pouted and huffed. He wasn’t that small! Lockdown was just really tall. And so was everyone else from Crystal City!

Thinking about Crystal City made him think about what Lockdown said would happen to Wing. He’d managed to put it out of his mind in the presence of guns and having to focus, but now his mind was free to wander. He wasn’t sure if burying memories was as bad as Lockdown thought it was. There were lots of things that he didn’t want to remember.

Touches. Scents. Memories triggered by small things that made his limbs lock up and his spark to whirl franticly. It was terrifying just remembering where he had been before Lockdown saved him. Stuck in a loop of trying to forget and trying to get his next fix and trying to forget some terrifying event that was always just on the edges of his consciousness.

Deadlock shivered and looked at the floor. “Can I recharge with you?” he asked quietly.

He watched Lockdown straighten in his chair. All of his plating shifted upwards and he looked bigger than he already was.

“What?” Lockdown asked.

“Can I recharge with you?” Deadlock repeated. “I…I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Lockdown tilted his head and smiled. “Sure thing, kiddo,” he soothed. “You need anything out of your room?”

Deadlock shook his head and timidly got to his feet. Lockdown stood up and ruffled the armor on the top of Deadlock’s helm, grinning down at him encouragingly. They walked down the hallway in silence. It wasn’t awkward; it was comfortable and relaxing.

Deadlock’s mind was still touching on subjects that he wanted to forget about, but it was better with Lockdown around. He kept the worst thoughts at bay. It made it easier to live.

Lockdown’s room was surprisingly well-furnished. The berth was huge and piled with blankets and a few massive pillows. Three bookshelves were packed full of datapads, blueprints, and other schematics that Deadlock couldn’t quite make out. A work-table off to one side was overflowing with incomplete modifications, a few of which made him uneasy to look at.

“I…wasn’t expecting this,” Deadlock murmured.

“It’s a bit of a mess,” Lockdown chuckled. “Haven’t had a chance to really put my thoughts in order.

Deadlock looked around. Messy? Not really, just full. At least in his opinion. It looked like someone lived here and enjoyed their space. If he wanted his room to look anywhere near this level of livability, he had to start buying things.

Lockdown flopped down onto the berth and stretched out, groaning as he shifted his plating around to cover most of his body spikes. He looked funny without the intimidating sharp bits, like a turbofox without its teeth.

“No cuddling,” Lockdown smirked as Deadlock clambered up beside him.

Deadlock grinned cheekily up at Lockdown before burrowing into his side. Lockdown let out a long groan as Deadlock snuggled and rubbed his face all over his chest.

“You are terrible at following simple requests,” he sighed. “Miserable little youngling.”

Deadlock stretched out and wrapped his arms around Lockdown’s chest, snuggling even closer to his warmth. Lockdown’s arm flopped onto the bed beside him and rubbed his shoulder. It was comforting and Deadlock settled down into recharge.

The nightmares started immediately. They were difficult to remember, but it was a lot of flashing lights, a feeling of impending doom, fear and panic and voices screaming to “get to evac”. There was a voice shouting at him to move, to get away, and screaming. There was so much screaming.

Blue optics flashed through his mind. They were wide and filled with panic. Their owner was shouting at him, sobbing and screaming to help them. There was nothing he could do; he was too small and the others were dragging him away.

Something warm brushed over his arm and he shivered. Warmth bloomed against his face and chest and he burrowed his face into it. He was vaguely aware of his optics onlining and seeing Lockdown’s familiar form against his. He snuggled into the warm and his nightmares faded away.

His dreams weren’t any better, but they weren’t scary anymore. He drifted off without any more nightmares.

* * *

 

Oil Slick almost jumped out of his plating when Death materialized across from him.  He set his equipment down and sucked in a deep vent.

“Was that necessary?” he asked.

“Possibly,” she replied. “But watching you panic is just as much fun.”

“Mean-spirited wretch, aren’t you?” he growled. “Figured you would have some pleasantry towards me since we fought alongside each other in the caves.”

“You are a good comrade, I won’t deny that,” she smirked briefly before her face hardened. “But you don’t belong in this crew.”

Oil Slick rolled his optics. Always about “crew”. What did that even mean? She was always throwing that stupid word around.

“It isn’t my intention to join your crew,” he snapped. “I’m just here as a tenant.”

“I’m not a roving apartment complex,” she grimaced.

“You don’t mind when Lockdown’s apprentices only stay for a limited amount of time,” he smirked.

Her headdress clicked and twitched into a wide frill. If he wasn’t shocked at the sight, he might have backed down in surprise. He had never seen her look so aggressive.

“Do not bring those younglings into this,” she snapped. “This has nothing to do with them and everything to do with you running away from your crew.”

Oil Slick snarled. “Don’t bring them into this either!”

“You belong on your own ship with your own crew,” she tipped her head to the side. “You don’t think that she misses you?”

Oil Slick ruffled his plating in distaste. “I doubt that,” he snapped.

He wasn’t missed. It was how he managed to get across the galaxy without Strika hunting his aft down. They didn’t care that he left. They were happy that he left. They didn’t miss him.

Death blinked at him and tipped her head to the side. “You don’t forget about crew,” she replied, “no matter how much time has passed.”

He shook his head. “Why are you so insistent on this?” he snapped. “I’m wanted here, by Lockdown.”

“You and Lockdown have a very…strange relationship,” she grimaced. “Yes, he wants you here, but is that really all it takes to make you happy? An occasional frag-buddy?”

“Jealous?” he snapped.

A strange grin spread across Death’s face and she let out a twittering laugh. “Oil Slick, he crawls around in my most intimate spaces on a regular basis; I’m not jealous about how hard he frags you into a berth.”

Oil Slick felt energon rush to his face. He hadn’t been expecting her to say that and the mental image that sprang to mind were horribly sexual and frustrating. He rubbed his face and vented heavily.

“Really?!”

Death cackled in delight and clapped her hands. “You should see your face! Oh, it’s priceless,” she cackled.

Oil Slick glared at her and rubbed his face again. “You are so frustrating!”

“If you can’t handle me, maybe you should go back to,” she let out a series of musical notes.

“I’m going to assume you said _Out of Char_ ’s core name,” he huffed.

“I did,” she smirked. “And I really think you should go back.”

“And why is that?” he growled.

“Primarily, I don’t feel like getting my aft kicked by a warrior three times my size,” she replied.

“Why would she do that?” Oil Slick snorted.

Death gave him a flat look. “You really don’t pay attention to how jealously my kind guard our crew, do you?” she asked. “If she thought that I was trying to make you join my crew, she would curb-stomp me so fast I wouldn’t have time to say ‘slag’.”

Oil Slick shook his head. “Regardless, it is out of the question; I left and I am not going back,” he said flatly.

“You are such a sparkling,” she sighed. “I’ll let this drop for now, but we will discuss this again.”

“Don’t count on it,” he growled.

She smirked and vanished. A half-second later, the ground wobbled under him and he yelped as he felt hard on his aft. He didn’t understand a word of the language Death spoke, but he knew her laugh in any form.

“Yes, yes,” he growled. “You’re a laugh riot. Jack-aft.”


End file.
